Bodies of Water
by film princess
Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father. Tag to Bloodlust.
1. The New Case

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

The boys drove in silence through three towns with no other plan than to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Gordon Walker, who they left tied up to stew in his own mess for the next three days. Gordon should have realized it's not a good idea to piss off Dean Winchester, and threatening his little brother would do just that.

Dean dabbed at his split lip with the sleeve of his shirt and winced. Gordon may be a complete psycho, but there was no denying he could throw a mean punch.

_I can't believe I trusted that bastard. If it hadn't been for Sammy…_

"Hey, Dean? You alright, man?"

Dean glanced over to the passenger seat to find his little brother looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. He dropped his arm back down to his lap in a subconscious effort to not appear weak.

"Just a few bruises, Sammy. I think I'll live."

"That's not what I'm talkin' about. I know you and Gordon sort of bonded back there, and then he…"

"Oh, come on, Sam. Not that 'father substitute' crap again. You were right, okay? He was bad news. I shouldn't have trusted him."

"No, I get it, man. We all need someone to lean on once in a while. I just wish you'd talk to _me_. What does it matter that I'm the little brother, huh?"

Dean refused to look at Sam and stared determinedly out the windshield instead. "It matters," he stated softly.

Sam sighed. "I'm goin' through the same shit you are, Dean. I know how you're feelin'. I didn't even get along with the man for most of my life, but I still miss him like hell. I may not be dealin' with his death the way _you_ think I should, but at least I'm _trying_ to deal. I know what I'm doin' is too little, too late, but it helps me get through the day."

Dean could have interrupted at any point and told his brother to stuff it where the sun don't shine, but he knew Sam needed to vent just as much as _he_ did, so he continued to listen in silence.

"I know you feel empty and you'd do anything to make the pain stop but it only seems to get worse with time. If you keep bottlin' it up, you're gonna explode… again."

Dean quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Sam gave his brother a challenging look as though daring him to deny his next statement. "I saw you, Dean. In the junkyard."

_Shit… _"I spent a lot of time in the junkyard, Sammy. What's your point?"

"You beat the shit out of the Impala. _That's_ my point. I know it hurts, Dean. Hell, it hurts a _lot_, but we're gonna make it through this, okay? You just have to trust me."

Dean cleared his throat to get rid of the lump that had settled there and tightened his grip on the wheel till his knuckles turned white. "Yeah," he answered gruffly, not entirely sure to what he was agreeing.

Sam stared at him for a few minutes, hoping he was going to elaborate. When Dean remained silent, he prodded him a bit. "_Yeah_? Is that all you have to say?"

"Look, I get it, alright? I promise you I'm dealin' with this shit, but you've just gotta let me do it my own way. Now can we please drop this?"

"Fine. But don't think you're gettin' out of it this easily. We're gonna have to talk about it sooner or later."

"Whatever. Any idea where the hell I'm headed here?"

"Uh… Gordon mentioned a chupacabra a few states over…?"

"I'm sure that thing's long gone by now. 'sides, I'm not lookin' to do Gordie any favors anytime soon."

Sam snorted derisively. "Yeah. As far as I'm concerned, the further we are from Gordon, the better."

Dean grunted his agreement, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

"Hey, maybe we'll actually get some down time for a change. I mean, no offense, but you still look like hell, man."

"I think I can handle huntin' with a busted lip and a shiner, Sam. There's gotta be somethin' around here worth killin', even by your new Boy Scout standards."

"Ellen might have somethin' for us."

"Dude, seriously? What is it with you and this Ellen chick?"

"Better question, what do you have against her?"

"We don't need her help, Sam. Our lives are none of her business. Just because she apparently knew dad, she thinks she knows all about us too but she is way off base if she thinks she can…"

"She offered us a place to stay for free, Dean. I'm not seein' a downside to that. Plus, there's always Jo…"

"What about her?"

"I dunno, man. But for some strange reason, she seems to like you. Maybe you should give it a shot."

"That's not gonna happen, Sam."

"Why not?"

"… Can't we just call Bobby? I'm sure he's got a few leads."

"Dean, come on."

Those damn puppy dog eyes are always the elder brother's undoing.

"Fine! Give her a call then. But you owe me _so_ big for this."

"Call it even for punchin' me the other day."

"Hey, I gave you the chance to return the favor, but you shut me down."

"You're welcome."

"I'd rather take the hit…" Dean grumbled under his breath.

Sam smiled as he pulled his cell from his pocket and gave Ellen a call. Dean zoned out, thinking about his father and the final words John said to him, as his brother chatted on the phone. He was brought back to the present when Sam hung up.

"Well?"

"She says she might have somethin' for us."

"Maybe there is a god after all. Couldn't she just tell us what it is over the phone?"

"Dean…"

"Fine! Roadhouse it is."

As far as Dean was concerned, the ride wasn't nearly long enough before he was parking in the Harvell's lot. He took his sweet time getting out of the car and received Sammy's impatient bitch face for his troubles. Nevertheless, he sauntered his way up to the front door that Sam was already holding open and slid inside without a word.

The Roadhouse was filled with people who were just passing through and a few hunters discussing their latest gigs in a corner. Dean made a beeline for the bar, eager for a beer, then remembered who was tending it a bit too late.

"Welcome back, Dean." Ellen did a double-take when she realized his face was a mottled mess. "You alright? I've got some more ice packs in the back if…"

"I'm fine, thanks," Dean jumped in, quick to waylay her concern.

Ellen nodded her understanding and changed the subject for the elder Winchester's sake. "You boys made pretty good time."

"Yeah, well… Now that I've got my baby back, I wanted to test her limits. She's purrin' like a kitten."

Sam joined them and took the seat next to Dean. "Hey, Ellen," he said with a warm smile.

"Hey there, Sweetie. Can I get you boys anythin'?"

Dean jumped in, eager to finally get his drink on and numb the empty feeling in his chest. "A beer would be gr…"

"Actually, we're good thanks," Sam interrupted, ignoring his brother's death glare. "Any chance we can take a look at that case you mentioned on the phone though?"

"Absolutely. Hang on a sec."

When Ellen turned her back to get the file, Dean smacked Sam in the chest with a _"what the hell, dude?" _expression on his face. Sam just frowned at him and shook his head.

"Here it is." Ellen dropped the file on the counter between the boys, regaining their attention. "Ash noticed the pattern, but couldn't make heads or tails of what's behind it. Might not be supernatural at all, but I figured it could be worth lookin' into. By the way, do you boys know where Gordon took off to?"

Knowing Gordon, she had a feeling the bruises on Dean's face weren't from the hunt they had shared, and her gut was telling her the boys didn't exactly part in the best of terms.

The brothers exchanged a quick glance before Dean answered, "Nope. He was still there when we took off. Why do you ask?"

"Some guy named Kubrick was in here earlier askin' for him. No big deal. Glad you're both okay though. Gordon's a piece of work."

"He's a piece of _somethin' _all right…" Dean threw in.

"Yeah, I don't think we'll be workin' with him again anytime soon," Sam added.

"Can't blame ya there. Well, let me know if you're takin' this case. If not, I'll see if the boys in the corner want it."

She moved further down the bar to refresh a few of her patron's drinks, leaving Sam and Dean to skim through the folder before them. Sam flipped it open and started to read the articles inside.

Dean stared longingly at a half empty beer bottle just a few feet away before forcing his attention back towards his little brother. "So what've we got, Sammy?"

"Looks like five bodies have turned up within the past ten years, all along the same river, but there's no pattern to the dates. Autopsy records show that they were brutally beaten, so I think it's safe to say we can rule out accidental drowning."

"Any connections between the victims?"

"Lots, actually. According to these articles, they're all males with similar appearances, all from the same town, and they were all between the ages of fifteen and eighteen."

Dean flinched at the age bracket as his mind started making uncomfortable connections to the Rusalka attack he suffered at age seventeen. _It can't be… She's dead. _ "I dunno, Sammy. This sounds more like a serial psycho than our kind of gig." _Denial… Ain't just a river._

"Maybe, but we've looked into less, Dean. We're not far. If we find out that it's not something that goes bump in the night, we'll hit the road and leave it to the local law enforcement."

Dean could tell Sam had already made up his mind. He sighed. "Alright. Tell Ellen we're takin' the case." He gave one last glance to the big biker's beer bottle, debating on whether he could take the guy or not before deciding against it, then rose from his stool. "I'll meet you in the car."

Sam frowned as he watched his brother's retreating back. He could tell something was bothering him about this case, but he doubted Dean would ever admit to it.

As Dean made his way towards the door, he accidentally bumped into a timid looking, bespectacled man in his mid forties.

"Sorry," Dean grunted without looking up, then continued out to his awaiting Impala. He had no idea the man continued to stare at him well after he was outside. Dean had more pressing thoughts in his mind, none of which were comforting.

TBC

Please review! If you have any ideas for upcoming chapters, I'd love to hear them, and thanks for reading!


	2. Mark My Words

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Sam's protective nature kicked in immediately and his body tensed as he witnessed the minor altercation between his brother and the smaller man that had just entered the bar, but he allowed himself to relax again when nothing came of it.

He was just glad it wasn't one of the huge biker guys that Dean tended to get himself into trouble with because the last thing his big brother needed right now was another fight. He frowned as the man continued staring at Dean's back and his gut was telling him something was off about this guy.

"Hey, Ellen?" he asked over his shoulder, keeping his eyes trained on the stranger. He knew she was making her way towards him again now that Dean had left.

"Yeah, Sweetie?" She set up a second round of beer for the biker, then leaned over the bar directly behind Sam, resting on her forearms.

"That man…" he gestured with his chin. "Who is he?"

"Who, Edgar? He lives a few towns over. Comes in here every once in a while for a drink. Why do you ask?"

They both watched as Edgar made his way over to an empty table and gave Jo his order. Then Sam turned around to face Ellen.

"No reason. Just had a weird feelin' about him I guess."

"Oh, Edgar's harmless," Ellen stated as she straightened back up. "Lost his son, Billy, a few years back and his marriage has been on shaky grounds ever since. I think he mostly comes here to get away from his wife. Never actually met her, but I've heard some stories."

"Yikes. Poor guy." Sam spared him another glance before reminding himself that his brother was waiting for him in the car. "Well, I've gotta head out before Dean takes off without me, but we've decided to take the case."

"Glad to hear it. I think your brother could use the distraction. How you boys doin', anyway? And I want the _truth_ this time."

Sam let out a small huff of laughter, though there wasn't much humor behind it. "We're doin' alright, I guess. As well as can be expected. Just takin' it one day at a time."

"That's a good way to start. Look, I know we don't really know each other, Sam, but I'm here for you if you ever need to talk, alright? Your dad and I were pretty close back in the day. He used to talk about you boys constantly."

"Thanks, Ellen. I appreciate it. Really. But I've gotta get back to Dean. I'm sure we'll see you again soon though."

"You do that. And be careful."

"We will." Sam gave her a reassuring smile, then turned to head for the door.

"Hold up, Compadre!" a familiar voice called from the other side of the bar.

Sam turned back to face the mullet-haired man that was swaggering towards him. "Hey, what's up, Ash?"

"You know how it goes, man… Same shit, different day. But I've got some updates to add to that case folder you've got there. Interested?"

"Yeah, course. What've you got?"

"Missin' persons reports for that town, spannin' back fifteen years. I narrowed it down to those fittin' the description of the boys that were found by the river…"

"And?"

"And I got six hits."

"Six? But there were only five bodies found."

"That'd be correct-o-mundo."

"So whatever it is that's attackin' these kids still has one of 'em?"

"Looks like. Name's Josh Bennett. Disappeared 'bout two weeks ago."

"Then he might still be alive… Thanks, Ash." He fished a few dollar bills from his back pocket. "Next beer's on us."

"Rock on." Ash exchanged his print outs with Sam's cash, then proceeded to finish the biker's mostly empty beer since the man had moved on to the cold one Ellen had placed next to it.

Sam nodded his final goodbyes to the roadhouse crew, then made his way outside to the Impala. He was anxious to fill Dean in on everything he had just learned.

He threw one more curious glance Edgar's way, only to find that the man was no longer there.

XXXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, Dean turned up his radio, blaring Motorhead, and leaned his head back against the seat. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to process the evidence.

_Five teenage boys, found along the river, beaten… into submission? God… Why did it have to be a river? …It could just be a succubus. Or a siren…_

_Seriously, Dean? Wishful thinkin' much? There's gotta be more to it than that. _

_Sirens prefer shipwrecks, but I doubt these kids were cruisin' down the river when they were taken. Could be a water wraith… Or hell, it might not have anythin' to do with the water. The river might just be a dump site for a wendigo or shapeshifter. But why only teenage boys? We need more info before we can start drawin' patterns…_

"Just please, God… Don't let it be a Rusalka…" Dean said aloud, head tilted up towards the roof of the Impala.

A heavy hand slamming down on the trunk of the car had him jack-knifing upright as his eyes flew open and he grabbed blindly at the wheel for stability. "What the…!"

Moments later, the passenger door opened and Sam slid in quickly, folder in hand. He saw the lingering fear in his brother's eyes before Dean could mask it. Frowning in concern, he was about to ask Dean once again if he was okay, but Dean was quick to waylay him.

"Dude! Why the hell did you hit my car?"

Now Sam was _really_ worried. "What are you talkin' about, Dean? I didn't touch your car."

Dean's fear morphed into barely controlled anger. "Don't lie to me, Sam. I'm really not in the mood for…"

"I'm not lyin', Dean! I opened and closed my door. That's it. I swear."

The older Winchester glanced up into his rearview mirror, then twisted in his seat to look out the back window. He couldn't see anyone else around. Sam turned with him, trying to understand what had upset his brother. "Dean, what…?"

Before he could finish the sentence, Dean was shoving his door open and getting out. He strode to the back of the vehicle, swept his eyes over it to make sure there was no damage done, then glanced around the full parking lot only to find it empty aside from a couple making out against the side of the roadhouse.

Shaking it off, Dean returned to his seat and shut his door again. Sam was still staring at him in confusion, and there was a tinge of worry in the look as though he were afraid for his big brother's sanity.

"Did you see anyone when you were walkin' over here?"

"No, I was flippin' through the folder. Wasn't really payin' attention, sorry."

Dean cleared his throat. "Must've been a bird or somethin'. So what took you so long? Find out anythin' useful?"

"Uh… Yeah, actually. There's a missing person that fits the profile and hasn't turned up by the river yet."

"So he might still be alive?"

"Here's hopin'."

"How do we track him down?"

"I think we should start by talkin' to his family. Find out where and when he disappeared and try to piece this whole thing together."

"Got an address?"

"502 Rockland Ave. Next town over."

Without any further ado, Dean started the car and they hit the road to try and find some answers. While his brother drove, Sam continued reading through the stack of papers Ash had assembled and came across the autopsy reports. He scanned each page, his grimace becoming more distinct the further he read.

"Jesus…" he muttered under his breath just loud enough to catch Dean's attention.

"What've you got?"

"Autopsy reports. These kids sure as hell didn't go quietly. They all had extensive injuries. The first three died of malnourishment like they hadn't eaten for days, the fourth died from asphyxiation, and the fifth one… drowned."

Dean's heart plummeted into his stomach. _Malnourishment… Like somethin' fed off of them? Suffocated and drowned? This is sounding way too much like…_

"I hate to say it, Dean, but this sounds to me like a Rusalka attack."

"Don't jump to conclusions, Sammy. There are plenty of creatures that fit this M.O." He shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel. "Was, umm… Was there any sign of… you know, _physical _abuse?"

With the way Dean was hedging around the question, Sam knew he wasn't asking about bumps and bruises. "Nothing noted, but that doesn't mean anythin'." _Ten years… It's been ten years, and it still feels like it happened yesterday. I've gotta keep a closer eye on Dean for this one…_

Sometimes in the silence of the night, Dean can still hear Sarina's captivating voice and he'll wake in a cold sweat. Just the thought made him shiver. "Still… Doesn't mean it's a Rusalka."

_He doesn't want to think about it… Hell, neither do I. _"You're right. Sorry. We'll know more after we talk to Josh's parents."

_Thank God. A safer topic. Wait… _"Josh?"

"The kid that's missin'."

"Oh. Right. How old?"

"Uh… Seventeen." It sounded as though Sam would have given anything not to tell his brother that particular tidbit of information.

_Seventeen? I was seventeen when I met Sarina. Malnourished, asphyxiation, drowning… Damn it._

"If he's still alive, we'll find him, Dean."

_Am I really that transparent?_ Clenching his jaw, Dean nodded in reply. He _had_ to save this kid. There was no other acceptable option for him.

XXXXXXXXXX

A young teenage boy began to stir and he whimpered as the feeling came back to his battered body. He ached all over. He managed to get one eye open, but the other was too swollen and it stubbornly remained shut.

For what felt like the hundredth time, he tugged harshly against the chains cuffing him to the cold, hard floor of the otherwise empty room until his wrists began to bleed once again. Lifting his head from the floor got him nothing more than nauseously dizzy as the room spun around him and went in and out of focus rapidly.

He had lost all sense of time and didn't have the slightest clue how long he had been at the mercy of his captors. He just wanted to go home.

Raised voices could be heard just outside the room's only exit, and the recognition of the tones made the boy curl into a tight ball as his self-preserving instincts automatically kicked in.

"_Edgar, you teach that boy in there a lesson cause he doesn't seem to have gotten your other ones at all. He just won't listen to me! You were always too soft on Billy. That's why he ran away in the first place! He keeps swearing up and down that he's not our…"_

"_Sweetheart, wait. I was wrong. That boy in there… He's __**not**__ our Billy."_

"My name is Josh… My name is Josh… My name is Josh…" the boy repeated quietly to himself, not sure who he was trying to convince at that point.

"_What are you talking about? Of course he is! His hair is a bit longer, but…"_

"_No. No, he's not. We've been looking at it from the wrong perspective, baby. Think about it. It's been ten years since we last saw Billy."_

"_I'm aware of that, Edgar! What's your point?"_

"_My point is he was seventeen last time we saw him and we've been looking for him ever since without taking into account how much time had passed. He's not going to be our little boy anymore, Maggie. He'd be twenty-seven now."_

_Maggie gaped at her husband. "I… I didn't realize… Oh, Edgar. And I was so sure it was him this time! So sure we had finally found Billy. We're never going to get our boy back!"_

_She burst into tears and Edgar lovingly drew her into his arms. "Please don't cry, Maggie. It's going to be okay. I __**found**__ Billy today. I promise you, I'm gonna bring our boy home once and for all, and I will make him sorry for causing you such grief over these past ten years. He will never leave us again. Mark my words."_

TBC


	3. Tempting Fate

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Sam and Dean pulled up outside of the Bennett's house, decked out in their fraudulent suits. They made sure they had the right badges and knew their matching identities before heading across the well-manicured lawn to ring the front doorbell.

"Hi, can I help you?" a reasonably attractive woman in her late thirties asked as she answered the door.

"Mrs. Bennett?" Dean checked.

"Oh, not for a long time, guys. It's _Ms_. Bennett."

"Ms. Bennett, sorry. Detectives Bachman and Turner. We have a few follow-up questions regarding the disappearance of your son, Josh," Sam concluded.

"I don't know what else I can tell you, detectives, but you're welcome to come in and I'll help in any way I can."

They both thanked her and stepped inside, immediately scanning the household for any clues that might help them with their case.

"Have a seat, gentlemen. Can I get either of you a drink?"

"Beer?" Dean threw out quickly before Sam could object again, but his heart sank when the woman shook her head sadly.

"I'm afraid the house is dry at the moment. But I have some lemonade…?"

Sam could tell by the look on his brother's face that Dean wasn't going to even bother gracing that offer with a response, so he took the liberty instead. "No thank you, ma'am. We're all set. We don't want to take up too much of your time, so we'll just ask a few questions, then get out of your way."

Mrs. Bennett smiled warmly at him. "I appreciate it. Now, what do you need to know?" She sat in the armchair across from the couch the boys were occupying.

"Well, we like to fact-check every now and again to see if any new information comes to light, so if it's alright with you, we'd like to go over your son's disappearance once more in as much detail as you can remember."

"Okay… Umm… Well, he disappeared two weeks back on his way home from school. He's a senior at Mt. Auburn High. He and his best friend, Christopher, like to cut through the park. It's about a block from here. Christopher lives two streets over and he made it home just fine. But not my Josh. I waited for him on the porch for hours, but he never came out the other side of the park. I wish I had more information for you, but that's all I know."

"Did Christopher have any idea what might have happened?" Dean asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.

"He mentioned something about them hearing a soft voice singing in the distance. Some sort of lullaby… But when they split up near the center of the park, Josh was perfectly fine. He shouldn't have been more than ten minutes getting home from that point."

Sam leaned forward too when he saw Dean tense out of the corner of his eye. He was hoping their close proximity might comfort his big brother, but at the least, he'd be able to restrain him if Dean let his emotions get the better of him. "He heard someone singing a lullaby?"

"Yes. I guess there was a woman in the park, probably singing her child to sleep or something. But I'm sure there were a few families in the park. It's a common place to go around here, especially in nice weather."

Sam forced a smile. "I can imagine. One last question before we head out… Is there any type of natural water source in the park?"

The woman frowned in confusion. "There's a river running through it if that's what you mean. It gets very shallow and narrow in a few places. Josh has to cross it to get home, but he knows that whole area very well. It's not swift moving and my boy knows how to swim, so I don't see how he could have drowned if that's what you're thinking…"

"Oh, yeah, no. Nothing like that. I just needed to see if there were any connections to other cases we currently have opened."

"I see…"

"Well, thank you for your time, Ms. Bennett. We'll show ourselves out." They stood simultaneously, anxious to move on.

"Detectives?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Sam turned back.

"Do you think my boy is still alive?"

The younger Winchester sighed, understanding where the woman was coming from. "I really hope so." Then a thought struck him. "Ms. Bennett, Do you happen to have a recent photo of Josh?"

"I sure do. Carry it with me at all times, just in case someone might have seen him…" She reached into her back pocket and revealed the photo of her son; green eyes, short, spiky brown hair, lop-sided smirk…

Sam swallowed hard before flashing the photo to Dean who set his jaw and shot his brother a look saying they were clearly on the same page. The boy looked a hell of a lot like a seventeen-year-old version of Dean.

Sam handed the photo back to its rightful owner. "Thanks again. We'll be in touch."

As they headed back to the car, Sam didn't have a clue what to say, but Dean did. "Damn it! What the hell is goin' on, Sam?"

"Dean… I…"

"He heard a woman singing, disappeared near a water source, oh… And did I forget to mention? He freakin' looks like _me_!"

"Maybe it's just a really weird…"

"There's no damn way this is a coincidence, dude. You know just as well as I do that there's no such thing in our line of work." He paced agitatedly up and down the length of the car before stopping in front of the driver's side door. "She _is _dead, right?"

"What?" Sam locked eyes with his brother over the hood of the car.

"Oh, come on, Sam. You _know_ who I'm talkin' about. Don't pretend you haven't been thinkin' the same thing ever since we took the case."

"Dean, I _shot_ Sarina, okay? She crumbled into a pile of dust. There's no _way_ she can come back from that."

"So… what then? She have a sister or somethin' who's out for revenge now?"

"Just… Let me check on somethin' before we jump to conclusions, alright?" He glanced uncomfortably up and down the street. "Can we at least get in the car before we raise suspicion?"

Dean looked like he wanted to argue- wanted to pace around some more or throw a few punches to vent- but in the end, he knew his brother was right. "Fine."

They slid into the Impala and Sam pulled his cell phone out and dialed a number.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "What're you doin'?"

Sam just held up a finger and waited for the other line to pick up. "Ash? Hey, it's Sam. Listen, can you do me a quick favor? Can you send me pictures of all the boys that went missing that are connected to this case? Thanks, man."

Seconds after hanging up, Sam's phone began to buzz as picture messages started arriving one by one. Less than a minute… Damn, Ash was good. He opened the first message with bated breath, then jumped to the next, then the next, and so on until he scrolled through all five of them.

The ages may have differed slightly, but the features didn't. Hell, they even had similar facial bone structures as his brother. This definitely wasn't a coincidence. He huffed out the breath he had been holding and slumped back against his seat in defeat. This case was getting personal, and that was never a good thing.

If Dean had been waiting for confirmation, the fact that Sam refused to make eye contact with him definitely summed it up. "Fan-freakin-tastic…" he grumbled as he threw the car into drive and took off down the street.

XXXXXXXXXX

Josh forced himself into a sitting position and hugged his knees to his chest as the door to his room opened and the man who kidnapped him entered.

Edgar walked towards him and stopped a few feet in front of the boy. "What's your name, kid?" he asked with a gentle tone.

For the first week, the boy had responded that his name was Josh. But eventually, he learned what his captors expected him to say and he submitted to their will when he could no longer take the beatings. "…Billy."

Edgar smiled softly and shook his head. "No. I mean your _real_ name."

Josh sat up a little straighter, hoping the man had finally come to his senses. "I've been _tryin'_ to tell you that from the start. I'm _Josh_. Josh Bennett."

"I'm sorry about all this, Josh. It was just… a simple misunderstanding."

"Are… Are you gonna let me go now?"

"Not just yet I'm afraid. My wife needs the company, and until we get a replacement for you, you're gonna have to stick around. It shouldn't be long now."

Josh wiped the tears from his good eye. "Why are you doin' this?"

"Because I love my wife. I don't expect you to understand."

With that, the man stood and left the room once more. Josh slid back to the ground wearily and tried to drift off to sleep. It was the only place to which he could escape now.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam and Dean had spent the entire day visiting the victims' houses, trying to get new evidence the previous families couldn't provide. But they all seemed to have similar stories, each as vague as the next. There were never witnesses when the boys were taken, and they all seemed to have disappeared along the same river.

By the time the brothers collapsed into their lumpy motel beds, they were flat out exhausted and frustrated. Sam cracked open his laptop, refusing to call it a day just yet, and Dean stared up at the ceiling until he couldn't keep his eyelids open any longer.

He tried to keep his mind blissfully blank, but the vivid nightmares that had plagued him for the past ten years inevitably found him. He tossed and turned restlessly on top of his sheets, reliving a memory that refused to stay in the past.

_"Stop squirming, Dean. Just relax…"_

_Bobby pinned Dean's right arm up by his head while John held Dean's left hand in the same way, using his right to stroke through Dean's hair._

_"Take it easy, kiddo. It's gonna be alright."_

_"Dad, wait! No! Guys, what are you doin'? Let go of me! Bobby, please!"_

_"Just relax, son. We won't let anythin' happen to ya." Bobby squeezed his shoulder gently and smiled down at him._

_"That's more like it!" Sarina practically squealed. "A little teamwork can go a long way, boys. Now, to business!"_

_"Please, don't make them do this! I'll cooperate, I swear! Just let them go!" _

_"Sorry, baby, but you had your chance to play fairly. Besides, stabbing a girl in the heart kind of hurts her feelings. You're all out of bargaining chips, and I'm all out of patience."_

_She was kissing across his chest again and running her icy hands over his abdomen, moving them lower by the second._

_"It's all gonna be okay, bud." John winked down at him as Dean looked into his father's eyes, pleading silently for help. John's only response was to pat Dean on the head._

_As her hand slid back towards his boxers, he was unable to thwart her. He squeezed his eyes shut, a lone tear falling past his temple, and he clenched his jaw tightly._

_When her cold, slimy fingers found their mark, she let out an appreciative groan and Dean mentally checked out of the building._

_"That's it, handsome. Don't fight it…"_

"NO!" Dean sat bolt-upright, nearly toppling off the bed. He was panting and drenched in sweat.

"Dean?" Sam closed the laptop and looked concernedly over at his brother. "Hey, it's okay, man. It was just a dream."

_No, Sammy. It damn well wasn't. Believe me, I wish it had been. _

Dean quickly went from terrified to embarrassed. It had been a few years since he let his dreams of Sarina get the better of him like that. He wiped away the sweat on his face with the sleeve of his shirt and cleared his throat to dislodge his heart which had jumped in there moments before.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

Sam frowned. "For what?"

_For startling you, for showing you how vulnerable and freaked I really am about this hunt, for makin' you worry even more… _"Did I wake you?"

"No. I was just about to turn in, but I've been scouring the internet."

"How long was I out?"

"'Bout an hour."

_This is gonna be a long night…_

Dean nodded, shut his eyes for a second to compose himself, then opened them and turned to face his brother properly. "Find anything?"

"Nothin' you're gonna want to hear," Sam admitted. He wasn't going to pretend he didn't know exactly what Dean's dream had been about. He'd witnessed plenty of them in the past; more than he'd care to admit.

"It _is_ another Rusalka attack, isn't it." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Sam bowed his head. "Looks like, but dude, there are plenty of supernatural beings that we've pissed off over the years. Any one of them could be usin' these kids to get to us."

"You mean to _me_."

"Don't. Just… don't, okay? We're in this together, Dean."

"It isn't killin' mini versions of _you_, Sam. Maybe you should head back to the roadhouse for a few days till I can figure out what the hell is goin' on. Maybe you're not on this thing's radar yet, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"What? Dean, no. I'm not leavin' you."

"I'll be fine."

"Really? Cause from where I'm sittin', you don't look fine at all."

"It was just a dream, Sam."

"_I _know that, but do _you_?"

A pregnant pause fell between them. "What if she really _is _back, Sammy?" Dean asked in a barely audible tone.

Sam tilted his head to the side with a pitying expression on his face. "Dean…"

The elder Winchester stood and began pacing again. "Don't give me that look, Sam. Dad thought she was dead before we met her too, remember? Who's to say she didn't find a way back again. I mean, dad invented the bullets himself. He was the best hunter I'd ever known, but that doesn't mean he doesn't make mistakes."

Sam pushed himself slowly to his feet. "It's gonna be okay, Dean."

Dean sped up his pacing, but narrowed his distance, keeping a few feet between himself and his approaching brother at all times. "Don't patronize me, dude. Don't freakin' act like you weren't there too!"

Sam started moving forward slowly, trying to close the gap without cornering his brother. "I _was_ there, man, and I know what you went through. But she's nothin' but dust now. Whatever this thing is, it's somethin' different. We'll figure it out."

Dean stopped his pacing and looked to Sam for answers neither of them had. "When?"

"… Soon, okay?" The desperation in his big brother's eyes was heartbreaking. Dean rarely turned to Sam for help, and there was no worse feeling than finally getting a chance to reciprocate and failing miserably. He was almost close enough to reach Dean now. Just a few more steps… "You've just gotta relax, man."

Dean swallowed hard at Sam's words as they mixed with the nightmare that was still fresh in his mind. He skirted around Sam, grabbed his coat, his car keys, and headed for the door.

"Dean, come on. Where are you goin'?"

"Out." _I can't just sit in this room and wait anymore, Sammy._

"You shouldn't be out alone, man. You're just temptin' fate," Sam protested feebly but didn't make any move to get in his brother's way for fear of bodily injury.

"I can take care of myself, Sam. Don't wait up." And with that, Dean slammed the door behind him.

TBC

A/N: Before we go much further, I want to warn you all that this story is going to get pretty dark! To remain along the lines of Sacrificial Son, there is going to be mentions of sexual abuse, so if this doesn't interest you, you may not want to keep reading! For those of you who do, please review and I'll see you for the next chapter! Thank you!


	4. Cliff Tanner

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Sam stared at the closed door to their motel room, debating on whether or not he should go after his brother. _Not yet. He needs time to cool off, and I…_

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number. "Hey, Bobby? I need your help."

"Sam?" came the groggy response. "'s goin' on?"

"We just picked up a new hunt, and all the evidence is pointing to a Rusalka attack."

"… Where's Dean?" The grogginess was gone, replaced by a sudden urgency.

"He just left. I pushed and he took off."

"You gotta find him, Sam. He ain't gonna be right in the head on this one."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Yeah, I know. We're gonna need back up, Bobby. I'm not sure Dean can handle this hunt."

"You wanna bench him?"

"We might not have a choice."

"Hang tight, kid. I'm headin' to you."

"Thanks, man. We're close to the Harvell roadhouse. Call me when you're in the area."

"On my way. And Sam? Keep a close eye on your idjit of a brother till I get there."

"I'll try." Sam pocketed his cell, grabbed his coat, and took off for the parking lot. It wasn't the first time he'd had to steal a car, and he doubted it would be his last.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean pulled up at the closest bar he could find that didn't belong to the Harvells. He needed to be alone, and he knew Ellen and Jo wouldn't allow him that. So of course, with Dean's luck, he ended up at a biker bar.

_At least they'll have good music…_

As he got out of the car, a shiver ran down his spine. Being the trained hunter that he was, he knew it had nothing to do with the slight chill in the air. Someone, or _something_, was watching him through the darkness, staying just outside of the light cast off from the glowing _OPEN_ sign just above the illuminated replicas of beer mugs and mixed drinks that adorned the windows. _Classy joint_.

As Dean crossed the parking lot, he kept his eyes peeled, glancing around without making it obvious that he was doing so. He even toyed with the idea of doubling back and taking off to find another bar that didn't give him the creeps, but he was already closer to the front door than he was to the Impala, so he submitted to his urge to finally drown his fears and memories with a bottomless round of whiskey shots, followed by a beer chaser.

Tonight, he was determined to get a restful sleep, undisturbed by nightmares. And he was going to _get_ that much needed sleep, even if he had to be in an alcoholic coma to achieve it.

Once the door shut behind him, the feeling of being watched was closed out as well. He focused his thoughts on the bar in front of him. No backing out now.

As he approached, he nodded to the bartender who looked like he doubled as a bouncer when he wasn't pouring drinks, and he took an empty seat in the corner where the dart boards and pool tables were easily visible but the sports broadcasting televisions weren't.

He couldn't care less who won what if it didn't involve hunters triumphing over the supernatural. Without a real home, he didn't exactly have a favorite team to root for anyway.

"What can I get for you, man?" the barkeep asked while tossing an alcohol stained rag over his shoulder.

"Whiskey, straight."

"One of _those_ days, huh?" the man nodded in understanding before setting a relatively clean glass in front of Dean and filling it.

"You have no idea…" Dean downed the drink in one go, then rapped his knuckles on the bar, requesting a refill.

The man smirked before pouring Dean a double. "Who was she?"

Dean glanced up, manufactured a weak smirk of his own, and said, "Absolute bombshell, but a total bitch."

The barkeep laughed. "Yeah, I know the type."

Dean shook his head. "Nah, she was one of a kind, trust me."

"_Shhh… Less talking, more action."_

_No! Not thinkin' about you tonight, Sarina. This is __**my**__ night, understand?_

He downed the second drink as quickly as the first and barely set the glass back down on the bar when it was being filled again. He managed a more realistic, not to mention grateful, smile this time around for the bartender. "Keep 'em comin', buddy."

"You got it."

The front door opened and closed behind Dean's back, and there was that feeling of being watched again. He stiffened slightly, then made as if he were checking out the rest of the bar when in actuality he was looking for the newcomer. Unfortunately, whoever had entered wasn't by the door anymore. _Damn it…_

He turned back to his drink, keeping his senses on high alert if anyone tried to approach him. _Just one night to myself… Is that too much to ask?_

And there they were… Heavy footsteps coming up behind him. He tightened his grip on the glass in front of him, prepared to use it as a weapon if necessary. _This is it. Moment of truth. Please don't let it be Sarina… _Regardless of his primed senses, the finger tapping him on the shoulder caught him by surprise.

"Hey, pal. You up for a game of pool?" a deep voice sounded from behind him.

Dean spun slowly, acting casually even though his heart was still racing in his chest. "Who's askin'?" He came face-to-face with a heavily built man who looked like he ate guys like Dean for breakfast, daily.

"Name's Cliff. Ran out of takers 'bout an hour ago, but I've still got a few games left in me. Interested?" Next to Cliff stood a slimmer, bald biker who had tattoos spanning the lengths of his arms.

_Yikes. He even brought his boyfriend for backup…_

"Hey, man, any other day and I'd be askin' _you_ to play. But I'm just not feelin' it tonight, alright? Just came for the drinks." He started turning back to face the counter when a meaty hand landed heavily on his shoulder and clamped down, stopping his progress. He let out a sigh of frustration and allowed the man to spin him back around. Some people just couldn't take a hint.

"Look, I said I wasn't interested, buddy."

"But I've got a counter offer. You come over and play _anyway_. You see, my boys over there are real interested in meetin' you."

Dean glanced over and saw a handful of hungry faces leering drunkenly back at him. "Yeah, I'll bet. Hate to break it to ya, but sausage fest was last season."

"We've got cash."

"Great. There's a strip club down the street. Have at it." He started turning away once again and this time succeeded, though he wasn't overly thrilled with having his back to these guys now that he knew what they were really after. Still, he was trying to make a point.

"We ain't interested in no strippers," Cliff growled and latched onto Dean's left shoulder once more.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, wishing he had thought to grab his gun before storming out of the motel room unarmed. Hindsight was a bitch.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam managed to find a relatively inconspicuous car in the lot and shortly after, he was cruising down the main streets in the center of town, keeping an eye out for the Impala.

He pulled his cell back out and tried to call Dean, but his phone went straight to voicemail. "Great…" He paused to think for a moment, then dialed the roadhouse. He doubted Dean would have gone there, but Ellen would know the other bars in the area and might have a suggestion as to where Sam should start looking.

There was a clenching in his gut that told him he didn't have a lot of time to waste.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Get. Your hand. Offa me. Last warning," Dean growled.

"What're _you_ gonna do about it, pretty boy?" The hand tightened possessively.

"Alright, that's it." Dean grabbed the man's wrist with his right hand, pulled it over his head to his right side to throw the man off balance and leave his ribs open to attack, then threw his left elbow backwards and jabbed Cliff hard in the side.

The man bellowed his rage and swung his right fist at Dean's head just as his bald buddy was coming up behind Dean who ducked off the bar stool, leaving Baldy to take the blow to the face.

A third, shorter guy came stumbling over from the crowd surrounding the pool table, eager to join in the fun. As Dean was jumping backwards to avoid a blow to the stomach from Cliff, the third guy barreled into him from the right side, slamming the left side of Dean's rib cage into the counter of the bar. He grunted in pain as he ricocheted off the counter and hit the floor.

Cliff dragged him bodily to his feet by the collar of his shirt and slammed him back-first down onto a nearby table top, sending the patron's drinks everywhere, shattering glass all over the place. The owners of those drinks scattered quickly, not wanting to be dragged into the brawl. Apparently, Cliff and his buddies had a reputation around here.

The wood gave out from underneath Dean and he found himself on the floor once again with the beefy guy landing heavily on top of him. The wind was knocked forcefully from his lungs and he was well aware that hunks of the splintered wood and shattered glass were embedded in his back. Now wasn't exactly the time to dwell on the pain though.

He went to throw a punch at Cliff's face, but the short guy clamped onto his wrist with both hands, pulling it roughly out to the side where Dean couldn't get enough strength behind it to break the hold.

For a disorienting moment, Dean flashed back and saw his father kneeling beside him, pinning his arm to the ground. He blinked, then shook his head until Shorty came back into focus.

"Now _this_ is more like it…" Cliff grinned stupidly from on top of Dean who growled and lurched forward, head-butting the man and breaking Cliff's nose.

Cliff fell over backwards, clutching at his bleeding face, which in turn freed Dean from under his weight. Dean rolled to his right, bringing his left fist around with as much force as he could muster and slammed it into the side of Shorty's face to get his right hand loose again.

While he was lying on his side, Baldy had regained his composure and jumped back into the fray. As soon as he was within striking distance, the venting Winchester kicked the guy's legs out from underneath him and Baldy landed on the floor with a harsh thud.

Dean kipped back onto his feet and easily fell into a fighter's stance, changing his technique from defensive to offensive. He smirked as Cliff and Baldy started coming at him simultaneously, looking forward to the challenge. Unfortunately, he didn't see one of the other players coming up behind him with a pool stick in hand.

Only Cliff's sudden distraction and the faint whooshing sound of something heading towards his head told him he better duck and he managed it just in time as the cue flew past where his head had been just seconds before.

Dean whirled to take on the newest threat, but as soon as he did so, Cliff lunged forward and tackled Dean, both of them crashing to the floor once more. Being pinned on his stomach this time left him with few options, but his mind was scrolling through all the counter-attack moves his father had taught him at a young age when the cocking of a gun made everyone freeze.

Dean craned his neck around to find the bartender pointing a shotgun at Cliff. "That's enough, Tanner! Take your posse and get the hell outta my bar."

Cliff wiped the blood from his lip and grinned. "Sure thing, Tommy. You heard 'im, boys. Let's go." He leaned back down till he was inches from Dean's ear and stated softly, "This ain't over yet, pretty boy." Then he stood and sauntered out of the bar, the rest of his gang in tow.

Dean watched him leave, making sure he didn't change his mind along the way and come back for more, then slowly and carefully rolled onto his back to catch his breath. He raised his left hand to cradle his left side, hoping to ease the pain a bit.

Tommy came around the bar and extended a hand towards Dean. "You alright, man?"

Dean gratefully accepted the offer and pulled himself to his feet with a grunt. "Yeah, thanks. Sorry about the mess."

"Don't worry about it. Around here, it's considered part of the nightly entertainment. Next round's on me."

While Dean was dusting the wood and glass fragments from his clothes, he could feel those same bone-chilling eyes boring into the back of his head. Since Cliff and his friends were already outside, his admirer from the parking lot hadn't been part of the gang after all.

He turned, no longer caring about being obvious at this point, and his eyes fell on a timid looking man wearing glasses who was sitting in the far corner, shooting looks Dean's way.

Dean frowned. There was something familiar about the man, but Dean's head was swimming from the drinks and the handful of hits he took, so he couldn't place him. After taking on four bikers, this guy didn't exactly seem intimidating so Dean shook the feeling off. He straightened his shirt and eased himself back onto the bar stool he had been occupying earlier.

Tommy poured him another glass of whiskey and Dean downed it without hesitation. This time around, he barely felt the burn as the alcohol made its way down his throat. The throbbing in his side took precedence.

If he had to guess, there were probably a few cracked ribs hidden beneath his layers of clothing. But knowing the gang was waiting outside for him, he had a feeling the night was going to get much worse before it got any better.

TBC

Please review!


	5. Armed And Dangerous

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

"Not many people around here tangle with Cliff's gang and walk away to tell the tale. I gotta say, I'm impressed. Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Tommy refilled Dean's glass once again.

"My dad. He was a Marine." Dean wasn't sure why he didn't just come up with some sort of lie to tell the bartender. He normally wasn't that honest with people, but he felt a kinship with the guy. Or maybe he just had one too many shots…

Either way, it felt good to open up a little, not to mention accept a compliment on his father's behalf. John had trained him well. There was no denying that. Even when he was outnumbered, it was rarely a fair fight for the other side. And when Sam had his back, they were an unbeatable combination.

_Sam…_Dean slid his cell phone out of his pocket, debated on turning it back on and giving his brother a call since he knew Sam would be out looking for him, but then he thought better of it and shoved it back into his pocket.

Telling Sam where he was would only bring the younger Winchester trouble. Though Dean knew he could use the backup against Cliff's gang, he wouldn't risk getting his brother hurt in yet another fight against bikers. Sam was safer cruising down the streets looking for him.

Besides, he was actually looking forward to the second round. If there was one thing Dean _wasn't_ good at, it was dealing with emotional pain. He'd prefer the physical kind any day. He knew his brother would try to psychoanalyze him for deliberately seeking out a beating, but what Sammy didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

When Dean stumbled back into the motel room later, bloodied and broken, he'd let Sam bitch him out for being careless and drunk. They both knew that in his right mind, Dean could easily take the boys waiting for him out front and walk away with little more than a few minor bruises. But Dean didn't _want_ to be the victor. He just wanted a different pain to focus on so his heart didn't hurt so much anymore. Was that too much to ask?

He could already hear his brother's nagging in his head… _What were you thinking, Dean? You could have gotten yourself killed! You must have seen them comin'… Why didn't you call me for backup? Why weren't you armed?_

Dean downed another double. Just one night of peace… That's all he wanted. He knew he was buzzed and that if he kept drinking there was a good chance he really _would_ get his ass kicked outside and wouldn't have the control to stop it when enough was enough. So he reluctantly pushed himself to his feet and paid his tab… with Cliff's wallet which he lifted during the fight. Needless to say, he left the bartender a generous tip.

Tommy came back over, looking concerned. "Want me to call a cab for you?"

"Nah, I'm good. Take it easy, Tommy. It's been fun." He headed towards the door.

"Wait!" Tommy jogged around the bar once more until he reached Dean's side. "Cliff and his gang… You know they're still gonna be out there, right?"

Dean smirked, then nodded. "Yeah. I know."

"I can call the cops if you want, or get some of the other guys in here to go out there with you…"

"I've got it covered. Seriously. Just keep everyone else in here till it's over, alright? I don't want innocent bystanders gettin' caught up in this shit."

"You sure you can take them?"

Dean quirked an amused eyebrow. "What do _you_ think?"

"Alright, man. If you're sure. I would suggest you go out the back door, but I'm sure they're watchin' that one too."

"You just worry about makin' sure none of these fine people go thirsty tonight, okay? I'll see you around, Tommy."

"I hope so, for _your_ sake, pal."

"It's Dean."

Tommy smiled. "Knock 'em dead, Dean."

The bartender watched as Dean strode out into the darkness and bit his bottom lip, wishing the guy the best. One of his patrons, a timid-looking guy in glasses who had been sitting in the corner up until now, approached the doors as well. Tommy threw out a hand and grabbed the man's arm.

"Got a situation outside, sir. I recommend you stay in here till it blows over. Drinks on the house."

The man stared out the door for a moment, then gloomily made his way back to his seat in the corner. Now just wasn't the time to make his move. He'd have to be patient with this one.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam checked another bar off of the list Ellen gave him before taking off to the next one. "Damn it, Dean. Where are you?" he muttered to himself, getting edgier by the minute. He tried his brother's cell once more, got his voicemail, then threw his phone into the passenger seat and punched the wheel in frustration.

He had to find Dean soon. He couldn't explain it, but he could feel it in his gut. He pressed the accelerator down harder.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean strode outside confidently, eager to vent his pain on the gang that awaited him. His anger rose when he found them sitting on the trunk of his car. Apparently, they had seen him arriving after all.

"Still here, huh?" Dean shook his head, feigning pity. "I was hopin' you boys would be smarter than that. Looks like I gotta teach it to ya the hard way instead. Who's first?"

Cliff stood and his friends fell in behind him. Only then did Dean realize they each had a weapon now. _Okay, so maybe they aren't completely stupid…_

"Now _this _is more of a fair fight!" he grinned, sizing up each opponent to find out who could inflict the most damage with and without a weapon. Either way, the answer was Cliff. He was the biggest of the bunch, muscle-wise, and he was carrying a tire iron.

Shorty had a pocket knife, but Dean knew he could easily disarm him. Baldy had a length of chain, but judging by his lack of fighting skills inside, Dean knew the guy would more than likely hurt _himself_ with it before he could attempt to hurt Dean. And the fourth guy, who had a red Mohawk and piercings all over his face, was only carrying a half empty beer bottle.

Dean quirked an eyebrow in confusion, then the guy chugged what was left, leaned forward, smashed the end of the bottle against the side of his steel-toed boot, then stood back up with a satisfied smirk on his face. The jagged edges of the green bottle glistened as he rotated it in his hand, reflecting the colored lights from the bar's entrance.

As the gruesome group began advancing towards Dean, he stepped forward with his left leg, raised his fists, and readied himself with a fighting stance. He had no intention of ending up in the hospital, so his priority was disarming the men. A beating he was willing to take. A stab wound… Not so much.

Judging by their malicious grins, disarming them wasn't going to be easy. _This is gonna hurt…_

Shorty charged first, wielding the knife in front of him. Dean held his position until his opponent was close enough, then he deflected the blade with a sideways chop and gave the guy a second black eye to complete the set.

While Shorty was leaning backwards from the force of the punch, Dean sunk his fist deep into the man's unguarded stomach. Shorty fell to the ground, looking like a fish out of water. He wouldn't be getting up again anytime soon.

Cliff had apparently learned his lesson inside, and instead of allowing the rest of his friends to attack Dean one by one, he motioned them all forward and the three of them came at him at once. _Shit…_

Cliff swung the tire iron at his head, Mohawk tried to gut him with the jagged bottle, and Baldy swung the chain at his legs in an attempt to bring him down. Knowing he couldn't deflect them all at once, Dean had to make his decision quickly. He wouldn't be able to fight if he was unconscious or if his legs were tied or pulled from beneath him, so his only option was to lunge towards the guy with the beer bottle.

As he had planned, Cliff and Baldy missed with their attacks and Dean grabbed Mohawk's weapon hand on the way down, smashing the rest of the bottle on impact. Before he had the chance to get back up on his feet, the length of chain was wrapped around his neck from behind and he was forcibly yanked backwards.

Cliff was moving towards him and Dean desperately tried to get his feet back underneath himself to regain control of the situation, but Mohawk kept him at an awkward height where he wasn't low enough to kneel, but he wasn't high enough to stand either.

Dean's hands automatically latched onto the chain, trying to pull it away from his throat enough to draw in oxygen, but in doing so, he left his chest exposed and Cliff saw his chance. He swung the tire iron with as much force as he could muster at Dean's already damaged ribs.

The unmistakable sound of cracking bones filled the night and Dean would have screamed if he wasn't being strangled. His back was pulled tightly against Mohawk's knees as the guy used his oversized biceps to pull the chain even tighter, forcing Dean to arch backwards at a painful angle.

Cliff sauntered forward and grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair, then leaned down until they were inches apart. "With a face like that, it's a real shame to have to mess it up." He nodded to Mohawk who loosened the chain just enough to allow Dean to respond.

"Bite me," he grunted out through clenched teeth, which was probably the only reason they were still in his head when Cliff sucker punched him hard enough to make him see stars.

"Let him go," Cliff instructed his buddy, deciding he wanted to play with Dean a bit more.

The chain was released and Dean landed on his hands and knees, gasping in air like it was going out of style. Mohawk kicked him in the back, making him face-plant on the pebble-like tar.

Cliff grabbed Dean's right wrist and pulled his arm behind his back, keeping a painful amount of pressure on the joint and preventing Dean from getting back up again. Dean grunted and tried to flip over to release the pressure on his shoulder, but Cliff dropped a knee into his back keeping him pinned and pulled his arm up even higher.

"Not so cocky now, are you, pretty boy?" Cliff gloated, then leaned down till he was inches from Dean's side-turned face. He sniffed deeply and Dean grimaced at the proximity. "You smell like fear."

The pressure against Dean's spine was excruciating, and he was pretty sure that if he moved another inch, his arm would be torn from the socket. He stilled, reluctantly admitting defeat. Sweat was beading on his forehead and he was panting. _Sorry, Sammy… I thought I could take 'em._

XXXXXXXXXX

One bar left on his list, and after that, Sam had no idea where else to look for his brother. Dean wouldn't be stupid enough to go into the park alone knowing he was a possible target, and there weren't many other places to go around here.

He sighed in relief as the black beauty came into view, parked safely in the bar's lot between a beat up truck that was more rust than paint and a long line of Harleys. _Oh, great. You sure know how to pick 'em, Dean._

He had every intention of storming into the bar, dragging his drunken pain-in-the-ass brother outside, and reprimanding him till he was blue in the face. That is, until he pulled into the parking lot and could go no further because a small gang seemed to be having a tussle in the middle of the lot.

Sam really didn't have time for this, but he wasn't about to let some poor Joe get the shit kicked out of him because he lost a game of pool or for something else just as inane. He leapt out of the car, pulling his gun from his waistband and aiming at the biggest guy in the group, assuming he was the leader.

"Hey! What the hell is goin' on here?" he barked, earning the attention of the other men.

"Mind your own business, punk. Unless you wanna be next…?" Cliff offered.

"S-Sammy…?" a feeble voice grunted from beneath the big guy's weight.

Sam wasn't usually prone to rage blackouts, but that one word had him seeing red. That wasn't just an innocent bystander underneath those gang members; that was his brother. He tightened his grip on the gun and cocked it. "Get off him. Now. Don't make me ask twice."

TBC

Please please please review! They're the fuel that keeps me writing!


	6. Pull Over

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

"Get off him. _Now_. Don't make me ask twice."

"Or what exactly?" Mohawk sneered at Sam.

"Or I'll give you a new piercing you'll regret," Sam challenged back, shifting his aim to Mohawk's chest.

"And we're supposed to believe you actually know how to use that thing?" Cliff snorted, settling more of his weight on Dean's back who grunted in pain.

"You really wanna find out?" Sam returned his aim to Cliff's head.

"Sam, don't…" Dean forced out. Killing the supernatural was one thing, but he wasn't about to let his kid brother become a murderer just because Dean made a stupid mistake.

"Yeah, _Sammy_. Sit back and enjoy the show instead. We were just gettin' started."

Cliff ran his fingers through Dean's sweaty hair, tightening his grip on the elder Winchester's wrist as Dean clenched his fists in anger. "Gerroffme," he growled, struggling once again.

"We might even let you have a turn when we're done," Cliff smirked.

"Get outta here, Sam," Dean warned, not wanting his brother to see what the gang had in store for him.

"Shut up, Dean. You guys have two seconds to let him up. One…"

"Two," Cliff responded, yanking Dean's arm up once more, dislocating it with a sickening pop.

"Ah! Fuck!" Dean shouted, writhing on the tar as fire coursed through his limb.

"Oopsy… I think I broke our new toy, boys. One way to find out…" Cliff took hold of the collar of Dean's button-up over shirt and began wrestling it off the older Winchester who cried out in pain again as his arm was jostled.

Sam aimed carefully and winged Cliff's shoulder, making him release Dean instantly.

"Why you little…!" Cliff growled, clutching at his bleeding arm.

Sam cocked his gun again. "Next one goes through your thick skull. This is your last warning. Get _off_ my brother."

Shorty finally pulled himself together enough to pick up his blade once more and stand, facing Sam defiantly. "We won him, fair and square. Go get your own puppet to play with."

Tommy came barreling through the front door of the bar, his own gun in hand, looking around wildly to find out who had already pulled the trigger and scared the hell out of his remaining patrons.

He quickly turned his gun on Sam who mirrored his move, unaware if he was friend or foe yet.

Tommy's eyes shot over towards the gang and he felt instantly ill when he saw the state Dean was in. _Damn it, man. I thought you said you had it covered._

"All of you, clear out! I called the cops and they'll be here any minute. Get off of him, Tanner, before I fill you full of buckshot."

Cliff stood slowly with his arms raised in a mock gesture of surrender. "We were just playin' with him, Tommy. Welcomin' the new guy to town, as it were."

"I don't give a shit what you were doin'. Put that knife away, Charlie, before you hurt yourself," he directed towards Shorty who looked embarrassed and did as he was told. "Now get outta here, and don't come back, Tanner. I don't ever want to see you boys near my bar again, got it?"

"Let's go, guys. Pretty boy just ain't worth it at this point." Cliff gave Dean one last shove into the tar before standing up, then turned and walked away without a second glance.

Sam nodded his appreciation to the latest arrival, then ran to his brother's side. Dean had yet to move of his own accord, too consumed with pain to want to risk making it worse. "Dean? Hey, talk to me, man. Where are you hurt?"

"You shouldn't have come, Sam," he grunted miserably before gathering enough strength to push himself off the ground a few inches with his left forearm.

Sam put a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder and pushed him back to the ground gently. "Don't move yet, Dean." He ignored his brother's words, choosing instead to focus on his injuries.

"'m good, Sammy. Let me up."

"You sure? Cause from where I'm standin', you look like hell."

"… Get off me, Sam."

"Okay. Just… take it easy." Sam helped guide Dean onto his knees where his brother grimaced in pain, clutching his dislocated arm to his side. Sam turned to Tommy who was approaching cautiously. "Can you bring us some ice?"

"Yeah, you got it. Want to bring him inside?"

"No," Dean responded before Sam could. "I can make it back to the motel. Not here, Sam. Jus' wanna go home."

"Compromise. Let me set your shoulder now before it gets any worse, and the rest can wait till we get back to the room, okay? Unless you're internally bleedin' or something…?"

Dean shook his head no, staring resolutely at the ground.

"Okay, what about _external_ bleeding? Did the short guy get you with the knife or anything?"

"Don't think so."

Sam gently cupped the side of his brother's cheek and raised his head, peering into his eyes and looking for any signs of concussion. Dean pulled away from the warm hand, refusing to look Sam in the eye after failing so miserably. Sam was too good at reading him, and he was afraid he'd find out that Dean got his ass kicked- to a certain degree- on purpose.

"Maybe we should get you to a hospital, Dean…"

"I said take me back to the motel, Sam. If you don't, I'll just drive myself."

Sam huffed at his brother's stubbornness. "At least wait for the guy to return with some ice so you can keep the swelling in your shoulder down till we reset it."

"His name's Tommy. He's the bartender," Dean felt compelled to explain.

"Of course you would know that," Sam grumbled, sounding vaguely annoyed.

_Oh crap. Here it comes…_

"What were you thinkin', Dean? I mean, seriously. You know you shouldn't be out on your own, let alone gettin' yourself wasted, while _unarmed_ I might add, and leavin' yourself open to attack. You could have gotten yourself killed!"

_Christ… Almost had his speech down word for word…_

"Save it, Sam. I just wanna get outta here, okay?"

The youngest Winchester sighed. "Fine. But we're talkin' about this later. And Bobby's on his way. I'm sure he'd love to hear whatever excuses you have in store for us."

Dean groaned. "You called Bobby?"

"I need his help on this hunt, Dean, and you're obviously out of commission now."

"Bullshit. 'm fine. You're not doin' this one without me, Sam."

"Whatever, man. Let's get you in the car." While he talked, Sam fished around in his brother's pockets until he found the keys to the Impala.

"Hey!" Dean protested indignantly.

"Suck it up, dude. Come on…" Sam reached out with both arms as though to help Dean up by his ribs, but Dean balked and quickly shoved his brother's helping hands away with his only good arm.

"I've got it," Dean mumbled, trying to cover up the fact that his busted ribs were screaming at him. He gingerly got to his feet, swayed for a few seconds, then stumbled his way towards the Impala. As he moved, he eased his over-shirt back onto his injured shoulder, wanting as many comforting layers on as he could get at this point and feeling exposed without them.

Sam watched his brother's back, taking in every wince and the way Dean was curled forward as though protecting his ribs. He made a mental note to check for broken bones when they got back to the room, regardless of Dean's protesting.

Tommy came jogging back out with a bar rag filled with ice. "It's not exactly sanitary, but it's the best I could do." He handed the rag to Sam who took it with a grateful smile.

"Thank you… Tommy, was it?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Tommy. I better follow him before he gets into even more trouble."

"Good idea. Poor guy… He was just tryin' to have a quiet drink when Cliff started pestering him. I hope he's okay."

Sam blinked in surprise. "Wait, you sure Dean didn't start it all? He has a habit of provoking…"

"Positive. He even tried to _avoid_ the trouble a few times, but Cliff isn't exactly known for takin' no for an answer."

"Yeah, I got that impression. Hey, do you know how much my brother had to drink tonight?" Sam knew he probably wouldn't get the truth if he asked Dean the same question.

"Uhh… He had a handful of shots, but he didn't seem all that drunk when he walked outta here. I offered to call him a cab cause we both knew Tanner and his guys were out here waitin' for him, but he seemed pretty convinced he could go a second round and come out on top. Nothing I said changed his mind."

"Sounds about right. Thanks again, Tommy. Take care."

"You too."

Sam headed back towards the Impala as Tommy reentered the bar to tell his patrons they were free to leave now that the fight was over. The bespectacled man stood quickly and made his way out the back door. He had a new plan in mind, and it didn't take him long to spot his golden ticket.

He jogged up to Cliff who was trailing behind his gang now, swinging the tire iron by his side and looking thoroughly pissed off. "Excuse me, sir."

Cliff halted, then turned with an incredulous expression on his face. He raised the slugger and dropped it into his other hand repeatedly, looking intimidating. The man before him looked unfazed. "What the hell do _you_ want?"

"Actually, the question is what do _you _want."

"Well that's easy… To not be bothered by piss-ants like you!" The gang gathered around Cliff, waiting for his cue to tear the little man apart.

"If that is your final answer, I will of course leave you to your business. However, I think I have a proposal that will interest you more."

Cliff nodded to his crew, letting them know the situation was under control, and they gave the two some more space to talk. "Alright. 'm listenin'…"

The smaller man smiled in satisfaction.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Sam reached the Impala, he found Dean running his good hand over the trunk, making sure Cliff and his boys didn't dent her while they were waiting for him to show.

"The car's fine, Dean. Get in."

Dean glared at the order but did as Sam told him to and eased himself stiffly into the passenger seat. He wasn't even going to bother demanding to drive because he knew Sam was pissed enough at him already.

Sam slid in behind the wheel, dumped the rag of ice into his brother's lap, then started the car. Dean clutched the make-shift ice pack to his shoulder and hoped it would start to ease the throbbing soon. Unfortunately, all it seemed to be doing was adding a frostbitten burning sensation to his heated skin.

As they headed back towards the motel, Sam broke the silence with a question that had been bothering him since they left Tommy. "Why'd you do it, Dean?"

Dean, who had his head back against the rest and his eyes shut tightly to try and block out the pain, cracked an eye open to glance at his brother in confusion. "Huh? Do what?"

"You knew they were waitin' for you, but you went outside anyways without calling for backup. Why'd you do it?"

"I dunno. Too many shots I guess…" He let his eye fall closed again, hoping to convey the discussion was over.

"Tommy said you weren't drunk when you left."

This time, Dean opened both eyes and proceeded to roll them in annoyance. "I thought I could take them, alright? Jeez, Sam… Let it go already."

"You were lookin' for a fight, weren't you. It's the only scenario that makes sense."

"For cryin' out… I made a _mistake_, okay? I didn't know they were gonna be armed out there!"

"… This isn't the answer, Dean."

"_Now_ what the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Drinking, fighting, takin' a pry bar to the Impala… It's not gonna make the pain go away. It's not gonna bring dad back. I'm sorry, man. I know you're strugglin' with his death, but this isn't the way to…"

"Pull over."

"Dean…"

"Pull over or shut up, Sam! I don't need this right now, okay? Just leave me the hell alone so I can lick my wounds in peace."

"Fine. If that's how you wanna play it…" Sam pulled the car over.

TBC

Please review! Lots of action and plenty of hurt!Dean to come. Suggestions are always welcome. Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there!


	7. Son of a Bitch

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Dean blinked in confusion as the Impala slid to a halt on the side of the road. "What are you…?"

"Go ahead, Dean. Get out if that's what you really want. How long are you gonna keep runnin' away from your feelings, huh? How long do you think you can keep this up before it catches up to you and bites you in the ass? I can't make you open up to me, Dean, and I can't stop you from takin' off cause I can't baby-sit you twenty-four seven. So if you want to go at it alone and self-destruct, far be it for me to get in your way."

Dean gaped at his brother, fumbling for words. He was pissed at Sam for calling his bluff, he was hurt, and above all, he was scared. He _didn't_ want to deal with this alone. He didn't want to go back to traveling the states without Sammy. Just the thought made his stomach clench, and boy was that unfortunate after all those shots of whiskey…

He lunged for the door with his left arm, taking a few tries before he was able to kick it open.

For one heart-stopping moment, Sam thought Dean was actually going to follow through with his threat of taking off. That is, until Dean took two steps and sank to his knees in the dirt, retching painfully.

Sam threw open his own door and raced around the car, dropping to the ground by his brother's side. "Dean? Hey, take it easy, man. You've gotta calm down."

Dean clenched his left fist in Sam's over-shirt, using his brother as an anchor and making sure Sam wouldn't be able to leave him there by the side of the road. With the way Dean had been acting lately, he felt he certainly would have deserved to be abandoned.

"S-Sam…"

"I'm right here, Dean. It's okay."

Dean retched again and was forced to let go of Sam in order to wrap his arm around his busted ribs as the muscles in his abdomen contracted painfully, making the bones shift beneath his skin. He lurched forward again and Sam's hand shot out to steady him, gripping on to his good shoulder.

Sam's eyes zeroed in on his brother's attempt at controlling his pain. "Move your arm, man."

"'s fine."

"Move your arm and let me see, Dean. Now's not the time to be stubborn."

Feeling like a little kid being scolded, Dean moved his arm away from his body, using it to lean back on instead in hopes that the new angle would help to uncoil his clenching abdominal muscles and make it easier to breathe. Sam reached forward and carefully lifted the hem of his brother's under shirt. Dean shivered as the cool night air hit his bare skin.

Even though it was dark on the side of the road, the deep purple bruises that were already showing up stood out significantly against Dean's otherwise pale skin. Frowning, Sam inched closer to get a better look. With his other hand, he began gently prodding the black and blue area spanning the length of Dean's rib cage.

Dean hissed as his brother's fingers neared one of the breaks and he swallowed hard to control his stomach before spitting into the nearby grass to clean out his mouth.

Sam pressed a little harder until he felt the bones give beneath the force, confirming that at least two were broken before Dean jerked away.

"Ah! Damn it, Sam… Watch it!" Dean's hand returned to his side protectively, knocking his brother's prodding fingers from his ribs.

"Sorry. Had to know the extent of the damage. We've gotta get those wrapped soon, Dean."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"How's the breathing?"

"… Manageable."

"Uh huh." Sam glanced around the area, making sure they were alone before turning pleading eyes back onto his big brother. "No one else is out here, man. Will you let me fix your shoulder now?"

"I'll take care of it later, Sammy. Stop crowdin' me."

_Stubborn pain in the ass… _"Fine, but at least let me help you back onto your feet."

Dean tried to think of how he could accomplish this task on his own before coming to the aggravating conclusion that he couldn't. He begrudgingly nodded his acquiescence.

Sam quickly slid in behind his brother, wrapped his left arm around Dean's upper chest for support, then without warning, grabbed Dean's busted arm and pulled hard. The joint snapped back into place, Dean shouted in pain and surprise, and then fell into his brother's tight embrace.

"I've got you, man. It's okay. Just breathe…" Sam gently eased Dean backwards until his big brother was leaning against his chest. A small whimper escaped Dean as he clutched at Sam's supporting arm, desperate for the shooting pain to let up soon.

At the sound of Dean's distress, Sam started to gently massage his big brother's newly repaired shoulder, knowing exactly how painful it was to have the stretched muscles trying to contract back to their original alignments. He'd put some muscle relaxant cream on it when they got back to the motel. Until then, Dean would have to settle for the makeshift ice pack.

The boys remained entwined until Sam felt the muscles in Dean's back start to unfurl against his chest and his brother let his head roll onto Sam's shoulder as the initial pain finally began to ease.

"God… damn," Dean forced through gritted teeth.

"How're you doin', Dean?"

"Just… peachy," he grunted in between pants as he tried to get his breathing back under control again. Sam winced in sympathy.

"Sorry about that, man. But you know as well as I do, the longer you leave it dislocated, the longer it'll take to heal and the more damage you can do to it."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Try not to move it too much for the next few days, okay?"

"I know the drill, Sammy. 's there any ice left?"

"Let me check. Can you sit up on your own or do you want to lay down for a minute and rest?"

"Nah, 'm good."

"Kay." Reluctantly, Sam helped ease his brother off of him until Dean was kneeling upright again. When the cool air hit Sam's chest, it was a huge contrast to how warm Dean's body had been against him and he shivered.

Then he realized his shirt wasn't just cold now, but tacky and damp. Glancing down, he saw multiple red splotches contrasting against the light gray cotton tee he was wearing. "Dean…?"

"Huh?" Dean blinked heavily at him over his shoulder, trying to keep his brother in focus. Regardless of what he told Sam, the broken ribs _were _making it difficult to breathe, and the lack of sufficient oxygen was making his head spin.

"You're bleeding, dude! Why didn't you say anything?"

"'m wha'?"

"_Blee_-ding. What happened? I thought you said they didn't get you with the blade?" Without waiting for a response, Sam reached towards his brother once again, pulled the back of his shirt up, and grimaced.

There were multiple lacerations crisscrossing Dean's skin, some of which still had glass and wood debris in them from the shattered drinks and broken table, not to mention the boot-shaped bruise near his spine, compliments of Mohawk. "Jesus, Dean…"

"'s okay. Doesn' even hurt, Sammy."

"Probably cause you're goin' into _shock_. It looks like you've lost a good amount of blood, man. Are you feelin' light-headed?"

"Not sure. Jus'… tired." Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Dean was starting to drift in his pain-filled haze.

"Hey hey hey… Look at me, Dean." Sam scooted around until he was in front of his brother. Bleary green eyes blinked owlishly back at him in confusion. Sam reached out and put a hand to his brother's forehead. "Crap. You're burnin' up."

"Nuh uh. Your hands're cold."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Alright, tough guy. We've gotta get you back to the room and cleaned up. Wait here a sec. I'll get a wrap for your ribs before you do anymore damage to them. Don't move."

Sam stood and quickly made his way to the trunk of the Impala. As he fumbled around in the dark looking for their medical kit, a bright light illuminated the surrounding area and the whir of an approaching engine alerted him to the light's source. He turned, hoping the vehicle would just pass by and leave them to their business, but since when were the Winchesters ever _that_ lucky?

The truck pulled off the road a few yards behind the Impala and the high beams were turned on. Sam lifted his arm and squinted against the bright lights. The driver's door opened and a relatively short man hopped out, but aside from his height, Sam couldn't get any other details as the new arrival remained shielded by the darkness.

"You boys alright?" a friendly enough voice called out.

"Yeah, we're fine, thanks," Sam called back. He shot a glance over to Dean who was trying to get back on his feet so he didn't garner too much attention from the stranger. "My brother just got a bit carsick is all." Sam quickly made his way to Dean's side and helped him off the ground. For once, Dean didn't complain about the assist.

"How unfortunate for the poor lad. I've got Dramamine in my traveling kit if you'd like some. It works wonders on car sickness." The man was already heading for the truck bed.

"Seriously, I think he's gonna be just fine. Thank you for the offer though," Sam tried again.

"Oh, nonsense. He may be fine _now_, but a few more miles down the road and he just might get sick again!" came the response as the man rifled through his belongings.

Sam shot Dean a look, saying _maybe we should just humor the guy and he'll go away_. Dean frowned. "Sam, no. Just get in the car and let's hit the road."

"Here they are! I found them!"

Sam forced a smile onto his face as the man leaned around the back of the truck and waved the small container in the air. "Great! We uh… We appreciate it." He helped Dean over to the side of the Impala so his brother had something else to lean against. "I'm gonna go get it from him so he doesn't get closer and see how banged up you are. If he _did_, he'd probably call the police on us or somethin'."

Dean grabbed Sam's forearm. "Don't! Come on. Let's just leave, Sammy." _Somethin's not right about this guy. I can feel it._

"It'll only take a sec, man. Just… wait here, okay?"

Sam broke free of his brother's grasp and strode over to the other man's truck. He had his arm up again in front of his eyes so the high beams weren't so brutal. Unfortunately, his impaired vision cost him dearly.

As he strode past the passenger side of the vehicle on his way to the bed of the truck, the door swung open and a heavy metal object collided with the back of Sam's head, instantly dropping him to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Sam's vision swam mercilessly, but he clung onto consciousness with all he had.

Dean heard the metallic thud followed closely by Sam's grunt of pain and his protective instincts took over, allowing him to push his pain to the back of his mind so he could concentrate better on the situation at hand.

Releasing his death grip on the Impala, he raised his good arm to shield his eyes, trying to spot his brother in the darkness just beyond the intense lights. "Sam?" he called out, hoping like hell he'd get a response. None came. "Son of a bitch…" he muttered to himself.

Anger firmly back in place, he gathered all the strength he could muster and started making his way towards the truck. Once he passed through the beams of light, the full scene came into focus and Dean saw red. He also saw Cliff standing over Sammy, tire iron in hand.

TBC

Hey loyal readers! Life has hit the fast lane recently, so I might not be able to update as often as I have been, but I will try to keep up! Thanks for being patient, and please keep those reviews coming! They're much appreciated.


	8. A Plan In Motion

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Needless to say, Dean was a little pissed. He took a step closer to Cliff. "We still got a problem, Short Bus? Why don't you just man up and…"

"Hello, son."

Dean's attention was quickly jerked from Cliff to the stranger at the other end of the truck, making his head spin mercilessly. He blinked a few times before responding. "Who the hell are you?"

"Don't you recognize me?" The man took a few steps closer to the rest of the group.

Dean narrowed his eyes, bringing the small, timid looking guy into sharper focus. He _did_ look familiar… but from where?

"You're the dude from the bar, right?"

"Well, it's a start," the man sighed in disappointment. "It's been many years, boy. Ten to be exact. Your mother misses you dearly. Time to come home now."

"Wait, _what_? Look, pal, you've clearly got the wrong person here. My mother has been dead for years. I don't know who _you_ are, and I'm certainly not related to Monstro over there." He pointed at Cliff. "Now why don't you just crawl back into your little truck and get the hell as far away from me as you can before I get really pissed off and things get ugly."

"I'm afraid we're not goin' anywhere without you, son. We've been looking for you for a very long time, and many children have suffered needlessly for your absence."

That's when it finally clicked and Dean was momentarily stunned. "_You_? _You're_ the one that's been killin' all these mini-me kids? You son of a…" He took a few steps towards the man, but came up short as Cliff rested the tire iron against Sam's skull. "I swear to God if you hurt him, it'll be the last thing you ever do, Butch."

"If you come quietly with me, this boy will not be harmed further."

"Come _with_ you? Where?"

"Home."

"I don't have a home. I'm tellin' you, you've got the wrong person!"

"That's enough, Billy. Start walking through those trees behind you or I let Cliff here have a little fun with your buddy."

Cliff smirked, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Dean practically growled. "Don't even think about it, asshole." He glanced down at his little brother and saw fluttering eyes trying to stay open. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy."

"D-D'n…" Sam moaned, fingers clawing slowly at the dirt next to his head as he tried to regain enough strength to get back up again. He failed miserably.

The man pulled a bag from the back of the truck, as well as a small handgun which he proceeded to point at Dean.

"Get movin', son," the stranger demanded.

Dean held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, then started moving backwards towards the tree line. The man was following him at a slight distance.

Dean's brain was running at full speed, trying to find a way out of his current predicament without risking Sam. So far, he was drawing a blank.

His best option was to divide and conquer. He turned his back to the stranger and quickened his pace slightly, needing to lure the man as far away from Cliff and Sammy as possible. Once he'd taken care of this guy, he'd have to double back to take out Cliff.

Dean's eyes darted from left to right now that they had adjusted to the darkness again, looking for anything he'd be able to use as a weapon. Aside from a few broken tree branches, there wasn't much. He did have a backup plan in mind though.

He slowed his pace and listened intently to judge the distance between himself and the stranger. The man was quickly closing in on him. A strong hand shoved him from between his shoulder blades and he stumbled forward a few more steps.

"Keep walking," the man ordered.

"Keep walkin' _where_," Dean grumbled, clearly getting more annoyed with every passing second now that his brother was out of his sight.

"Towards the river."

"Oh, hell no…" Dean quickly put on the brakes and the man walked straight into him. _Bingo_.

Taking advantage of the man being caught off his guard, Dean spun around and made a grab for the gun.

In his panic, Edgar pulled the trigger and the sound reverberated throughout the park.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam heard the gunshot and managed to lift his head high enough from the ground to look towards the woods that were hiding his brother from sight.

"Dean!"

"Stay down or I'll _make_ you stay down. Your choice," Cliff barked, waving the tire iron menacingly, just inches above Sam's raised head.

Unable to turn enough to actually see the man, he took a guess at his identity from the sound of his voice. "You're the guy who attacked my brother in the parkin' lot, aren't you?"

"I'm the guy who's gonna bust your head in if you move another inch."

"Why are you doin' this?"

Cliff smirked. "Why? Let's just say the boss man made an offer I couldn't refuse."

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean ducked, having heard the mechanisms clicking before the bullet even left the chamber, but he didn't move quite fast enough. The bullet sliced through the side of his arm, leaving a deep graze on his left shoulder. The pain and surprise spun him around and dropped him to his knees.

"Ah! Damnit!"

"Look what you made me do, boy!" the man bellowed with rage. "You're mother's not gonna like this one bit… You shouldn'tve done that."

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"What're you doin'?" Dean breathed out as he clamped his right hand over the wound to try and staunch the bleeding a bit.

"Cliff? Take care of the kid and get over here. My son is choosing not to cooperate."

"No!" Dean shouted, trying to stand up again. "Call him off! I'll go home with you, okay? Whatever you want!"

"Damn right you will. Arms behind your back."

Dean groaned as he watched the man pull a length of rope from his bag. "Oh, come on… I said I'd cooperate!"

"Not good enough. If you want the other boy to live, you will do as I tell you."

Swearing under his breath, Dean forced his arms to respond even though every nerve ending screamed at him to disobey. He clasped his right wrist, afraid his shoulder might dislocate again if he didn't support it.

"Turn around…"

Dean let out a huff of annoyance and proceeded to inch his way 180 degrees around on his knees.

The man placed a second phone call to Cliff. "Lock the kid up so he can't cause us any trouble, but don't hurt him unless you have to, understood?"

Dean waited for the sound of the phone snapping shut before speaking up again. "Now what?"

"Now we wait for Cliff."

"Wonderful…"

XXXXXXXXXX

Cliff nudged Sam in the side with his boot. "Get up."

"But you just told me to…"

"I said get up!"

With a hand on the back of his throbbing head, Sam managed to push himself up onto his knees, then used the truck to pull himself onto his feet where he swayed dangerously.

"Get in the truck."

"What happened to my brother?"

Cliff threw a fist into Sam's solar plexus and dropped him back to his knees as he gasped for air. Cliff dragged Sam by his shirt to the back of the truck and bodily threw him into the truck bed.

Sam's head connected with the wheel well and he slumped to the metal floor, unable to fight unconscious a second time around.

Cliff headed into the woods to catch up with the others.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was easy to hear the big man's footsteps approaching long before he was within seeing distance.

"What did you do with Sam?" Dean demanded, craning his head to watch Cliff coming up behind him.

"He's takin' a little nap."

"You sonofabitch…"

Cliff took the rope from the smaller man and knelt behind Dean, pulling his arms back tighter and making Dean grunt with pain.

Cliff smirked. "Aww… I'm sorry. How's the shoulder doin'?"

Dean would have loved nothing more than to beat the biker to a pulp, but the stranger was still pointing a gun at him and it was clear he wasn't afraid to use it now.

After knotting the rope tightly, Cliff stood and dusted his hands off. "All set, boss."

"Good. Hold him."

Dean swung his head around again at those words, wondering what was coming next, when Cliff's trunk-sized arms latched around his chest and neck, effectively immobilizing him.

"Hey! What…?"

A wet piece of fabric was held over his nose and mouth and Dean's senses were assaulted by a strong, sweet odor he recognized immediately as chloroform. _Ah crap…_

He struggled, trying to get the fabric away from his face before it was too late, but Cliff's strong embrace was unrelenting. Dean felt weaker by the second, and the last thing he heard was the stranger's soft voice next to his ear…

"Don't worry, Billy. You'll be home soon."

Then the darkness claimed him.

TBC

This chapter is dedicated to Natasha K , scifigeek22, and all the amazing fans out there who have been waiting so patiently for a new update! Sorry for the delay, and depending on how crazy things are going to be getting over the next few weeks, I might have to pass the torch to the originator of this story, Emerald-Water.

But if that's the case, I'll co-write as much as I can and I'll continue to post the updates here so we don't have to break up the story. I need the extra help because it's not fair to you guys if I leave you hanging for so long while I'm trying to juggle everything! Please review, and hopefully I'll have another update for you all soon.


	9. Captures and Escapes

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Ringing… That was the first thing that registered in Sam's mind as he slowly fought his way back to consciousness. Shortly after that, he realized the ringing wasn't just in his throbbing head.

A groan escaped his lips as he forced his right arm to respond and retrieve his cell from his pocket. His eyes remained stubbornly closed as he flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear.

"'lo?" he grunted, wincing at the volume of his own voice. It felt like he had a raging hangover.

"Sam? You alright, boy?"

"Bobby?" Sam frowned, feeling a sense of urgency he couldn't quite place yet. "'s goin' on?"

"You tell _me_, kid. I'm close to the roadhouse now. Wanna tell me where I'm goin' from here?"

_Roadhouse? Bar… Biker… Fight… Stranger… Dean!_

Everything came flooding back to Sam and hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. His eyes snapped open. "Oh god…"

"Sam? What…?"

"I'll call ya back, Bobby."

With that, Sam snapped his phone shut and pushed himself up onto shaky legs that were barely able to support him. He stumbled off the back of the truck and was incredibly relieved to find that he was still just outside of the park and the Impala was right where he had left it.

Moving silently to the still open trunk, he found his favorite gun and not a minute too soon. Heavy footfalls signaled the return of Cliff as he came striding back out of the woods, headed for his own truck.

Sam ducked down behind the Impala, then circled around to stealthily follow the bigger man until they reached the truck bed.

Cliff glanced in the back and was surprised to find that Sam was no longer where he had left him. "What the…?"

"Don't move." Sam cocked the gun and held it close to Cliff's head.

Cliff froze, but that didn't stop him from running his mouth. "You ain't got the guts to kill me, boy."

"Oh, believe me. Not only do I have the guts, but there's only one question you can answer for me that'll keep me from splattering your brains all over your truck. Where's my brother?"

Cliff began to chuckle. "You're never gonna find him. The boss had everythin' planned from the start. Pretty Boy's as good as gone."

"Wrong answer."

Sam brought the butt of the gun down hard on the back of Cliff's head, then watched him fall gracelessly to the ground. "Have fun with _that _headache when you wake up…"

He turned towards the woods into which his brother had disappeared and took off at a cautious run, keeping his gun pointed at a low angle but ready to aim when necessary.

Sam ran straight through the park, keeping his eyes peeled for Dean. He skidded to a halt seconds before reaching the edge of the river Ms. Bennett had warned them about. He glanced down into the water, then upstream and downstream, before spinning in slow circles hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother or even just a clue as to where he might have gone. But neither Dean nor the stranger was anywhere to be found.

The only evidence that they had been there at all was a small pool of blood coating a handful of leaves on the ground and a few other scattered drops leading towards the river.

Gun held loosely in his hand, Sam dropped to his knees in the muddy dirt by the water, feeling lost and dejected. His phone began to ring again and he knew who it would be before he answered.

"He's gone, Bobby. Dean's gone."

XXXXXXXXXX

Soft, melodic singing brought Dean out of his darkness. At first, he laid still, listening to the woman's voice. He felt cold, inside and out. His brain fought like hell to catch up to the present, trying to fill in what had happened during his forced siesta.

The acrid taste in his mouth left over from the chloroform told him all he needed to know. This wasn't a hangover from a late night bender… This was a deliberate kidnapping.

The soft voice was gradually growing louder and creaking footsteps alerted him to movement across the room. Whoever was singing was heading straight towards him.

Judging by the soft fabric beneath his cheek, he was lying on a bed which in normal circumstances would have been preferred to say… a face-full of tar and pebbles. But at this point, it only served to make his heart beat faster. It certainly didn't help that he was lying on his stomach and unarmed, feeling utterly defenseless.

Dean kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep, but he tensed automatically when she paused inches away from the bed. He could feel her eyes boring holes into his exposed back and a repressed memory of Sarina forced its way into his mind, making his stomach clench uncomfortably.

_Ah crap…_

XXXXXXXXXX

Only when Sam heard the truck's engine roar to life did he remember Cliff.

_Damn it!_

He shot to his feet and raced back through the park until he reached the road, but by then, he could only see the truck's tail lights fading into the distance. He laced his fingers through his hair in frustration, then spun slowly on the spot, hoping for some sort of answer that would bring his brother back to him.

_Please hurry, Bobby…_

XXXXXXXXXX

The sound of dripping water near his head did nothing to calm Dean's nerves or ease his chills. Neither did the wet rag that was suddenly brushed across the side of his face, making him jump unwittingly.

The hand controlling the rag dabbed at his torn back gently. Dean could still feel the splinters of glass and wood imbedded in his flesh and the light pressure against his wounds felt like slow torture.

Every muscle told him to move and get out from underneath the hand that was now moving strategically downwards, stopping just shy of the waistband of his jeans. Dean's hands clenched into fists as he struggled to control his fight or flight instincts.

Though he would never admit it to anyone, Dean was terrified. Judging by the fact his reasonably numb arms were stretched above his head, he wasn't here as a guest and it was too quiet to be a hospital bed.

The slightest twitch of a wrist confirmed his suspicions when metal cuffs clinked against a metal bar belonging to what he assumed was a headboard.

Unfortunately, the small movement wasn't missed by the stranger standing next to him.

"Edgar, dear? I think he's starting to wake up!" the voice trilled in excitement, much louder than her previous humming had been. Dean winced as it made his head throb.

Heavier footsteps were approaching the small bedroom now and the sinking feeling in his gut told Dean he probably knew who the owner of those shoes was. _That little creep from the side of the road…Shit! Sammy!_

No longer caring about the possible repercussions, Dean's eyes flew open and he lifted his head from the pillow just enough to glance around the room, not sure if he would be more relieved to find his brother there with him or not.

Much to his annoyance, however, his vision chose not to cooperate and his head felt like it was spinning off of his shoulders. He groaned involuntarily and dropped his head back to the pillow, closing his eyes in hopes that it would quiet his stomach before it was too late.

The manicured fingers that ran soothingly through his spiky hair caught him by surprise. "Hush little baby, don't say a word…" the soft voice cooed, apparently intending to comfort him though it had the exact opposite effect. "Mamma's gonna take care of you, baby. You're home now, safe and sound."

_Great… Insanity's contagious._ "Look, lady, as I tried to explain to your whacked-out husband, I'm not who you think I am. My name's…"

"That's _enough_, Billy!" a vaguely familiar voice spoke up from what Dean assumed was a doorway on the other side of the room. "This game of yours is tiresome."

Using his elbows for leverage, Dean pushed himself up a few inches and craned his neck to confirm his suspicions. He bit back the growl that threatened to burst loose when he spotted the man that had attacked him earlier.

"Oh, leave him alone, Edgar. It's obvious our poor boy has had a rough day already." She took hold of Dean's upper left arm and tutted at the bullet graze that was still seeping blood sluggishly. "Go finish your supper, dear. I'll watch over him."

"Alright, Maggie. But don't undo his cuffs, understand? He's still a flight risk until he comes to his senses."

"He's not goin' anywhere, are you, baby…?" she cooed again, using the same wet rag to dab at Dean's bloody arm. "You'll be back to yourself in no time, Billy."

_Wonderful. I thought the Benders were bad, but I'd take them over the Beaver Cleaver clan any day…_

"Now, let's get you all cleaned up. You're quite the mess, aren't you?"

"'m fine," Dean mumbled, trying to pull his arm out of her grasp. He knew he was fighting a losing argument but felt the need to put on a tough act nonetheless.

"Nonsense. Now you just relax and let momma take care of you, just like when you were a boy."

Dean's heart constricted at the thought of what it was like to have a mother when he was a child. Truth be told, she did share a slight resemblance with Mary…

Dean tightened his jaw and dropped his eyes to the pillow in front of him, refusing to let her words affect him.

Those manicured fingers were back again, this time running gently down the back of his neck, re-igniting the chills he had almost shaken off. She leaned down and whispered into his ear, making him tilt his head away in disgust.

"I missed you, baby." She kissed his cheek tenderly and suddenly she wasn't giving off motherly vibes anymore. "You grew up handsome, Billy."

_Jesus…Not this shit again. Where are you, Sammy?_

She was leaning even closer now, clearly aiming for his lips. Dean drew back as far as his battered and cuffed body allowed, grimacing as he leaned more weight onto his busted ribs. "Don't," he stated softly, praying she'd heed him.

The woman drew back, looking slightly hurt. "Don't you remember how we used to be, Billy? We took real good care of each other before you left…"

Dean's indignant rage was getting the better of him. "What the hell's wrong with you, lady? It's no freakin' wonder your kid ran away!"

She couldn't have looked more shocked if Dean had slapped her across the face. Then something occurred to her and a comforting smile crossed her face as she gazed loving down at him again. "You haven't been takin' your medication, have you, baby?" she scolded with an understanding smile.

"What are you talkin' about?" Dean demanded, wondering how much more his nerves could take at this point.

The woman stood and made her way across the room to a small cabinet. Dean twisted on the bed again, trying desperately to keep her in sight. He watched as she pulled out a bottle filled with a clear liquid and a syringe. "Don't you worry now, Billy. Everythin's gonna be alright in a moment."

"Whoa whoa whoa… What the hell is that?"

"Just a little somethin' to calm you down. It'll only hurt for a second…"

She moved back to the bed, squeezing a bit of the fluid out to make sure there were no air bubbles present. Dean began pulling against his restraints with as much strength as he could muster but the cuffs wouldn't budge.

"Oh, come now… You know better than to squirm," she scolded. "It's only going to hurt more! Now hold still like a good little boy…"

She plunged the needle into his bad shoulder and he yelped in pain. Once the medication was emptied into his muscle, she pulled the needle out and rubbed his arm soothingly, sending shooting fire up and down the sensitive joint. He bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

"There you go, baby. All better."

"What did you just give me?" he panted.

"You know exactly what it was, Billy. You've been on these meds for years. Why don't you just lie back and relax now while the drugs do their job, okay? Oh dear… You've gone and opened your wounds up again. I'll go get the med kit."

Dean was feeling weaker by the minute, but he was staying conscious so the medication wasn't meant to knock him out. If he were to guess, he'd have said it was some sort of paralytic. That is, until the hallucinations began…

TBC

Please please please review! It's much appreciated! Thanks for reading, and I'll put up another post as soon as I can get to it.


	10. Wrong Side of the Bed

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Dean's head was swimming again. Or maybe that was just the sports themed wallpaper… He blinked heavily when a baseball started laughing at him. _Bite me, Chuckles._

For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was or why he was there. It was as if his brain had shut down and his drugged vision had taken over, running rampant with his imagination.

The woman returned and placed the now opened med kit on the bed by his side. He tilted his head down and looked curiously at it, wondering why the fluffy cotton balls weren't pink and blue like cotton candy. _Mmm… Cotton candy…_

"Still with me, baby?" A cool hand rested lightly against his fevered forehead, then tilted his chin up, changing his focus from the kit to her. He blinked again, trying to bring the woman into focus. Long, wavy blonde hair, soft blue eyes, a loving smile… The features so familiar it made his heart ache. _It can't be…_

"Mom…?" he whispered brokenly.

"I'm right here, sweetie." Smooth fingers carded through his hair again, and instead of feeling violated, he felt more relaxed and safer than he had in a long time.

"Missed you," he said softly, refusing to look away for fear that she'd disappear if he did. Some annoying voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him that none of this was real, but he _needed _it to be real. So he shut the voice out.

"I missed you too, baby. Why did you leave me?"

Dean's brow furrowed in hazy confusion. "Didn't. Lost you."

"Well don't you worry, love. Mommy's here, and I'm not going to lose you again." A soft kiss to his temple, and Dean felt all of four years old again. A little-boy-smile graced his face as he snuggled down further into the soft mattress, feeling drowsy and at peace.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam was leaning against the trunk of the Impala, trying to keep himself together while fear for his brother was tearing him apart. He glanced up at the approaching headlights with trepidation and breathed a sigh of relief when a familiar truck pulled off to the side of the road close by.

"Bobby! Thank god…"

Bobby hopped down from his truck and made his way to Sam's side for a quick embrace, all the while scanning the surrounding area for any signs of Dean or trouble. "You wanna tell me what the hell happened, Sam? Where's the Rusalka bitch? I swear to all things holy that if Sarina somehow found a way to come back from the dead to go after your brother again, I'll…"

"Whoa, hey. It's not a Rusalka, Bobby."

That momentarily let the air out of the man's tires. "Come again?"

"The research seemed to be pointing in that general direction, but we were wrong. It's just some crazy guy lookin' for his son, and he thinks Dean's him."

"You wanna tell me how an ordinary psycho managed to get the drop on two trained hunters such as yourselves?"

Sam dropped his gaze and scuffed his foot in the dirt, suddenly feeling like a little kid being scolded. "Not really… But in our defense, people are unpredictable as hell. And Dean wasn't exactly in the best of shape when he was taken."

Bobby's concern doubled instantly. "How bad?"

"Kind of a mess actually. We've gotta find him, man. And soon."

"Slow your horses, son. I wanna get 'im back just as much as you do, but runnin' into this thing half-cocked is just gonna get us _all_ killed. So why don't you start from the beginnin' and catch an old man up."

XXXXXXXXXX

The woman was fiddling with stuff inside the med kit, but for once in his life, Dean wasn't concerned. All was right with the world, as it hadn't been for twenty-two years.

Maggie dipped a cotton ball into a bottle of peroxide, remembering back when she had had to do this for Billy when he split his knee as a young boy, trying to ride a bicycle without training wheels for the first time. He had cried back then, but Edgar made him stop.

She skimmed her fingers gently over Dean's damaged back and watched as his thoroughly relaxed muscles twitched and tensed slightly at the pressure. Her poor boy wasn't going to like this one bit…

Starting at his lower back where the cuts were the deepest, she rubbed the drenched cotton ball up and down each slice, clearing away the drying blood and making the wounds fizzle as the liquid bubbled and frothed.

Dean started to squirm in protest, the liquid burning his wounds and making his sore muscles clench reflexively. She marveled at how perfectly toned her boy was now that he was all grown up and even felt sadistic pleasure in being able to make those muscles quiver beneath her touch.

He gasped when she pushed a little too hard on a deeply bruised section of skin halfway up his spine. She placed a steadying hand against the side of his flushed face.

"Shh… Breathe through it, baby." Thinking back to the past again, she knew if her boy was too loud, Edgar would come storming in and make the situation much worse. He had a very short temper when it came to what he called "noise pollution." Children were supposed to be seen, not heard.

But needless to say, Dean was no stranger to pain. He focused on controlling his breathing and forced his hands to unclench before he accidentally cut into his palms with his nails.

"That's my brave boy…" Maggie returned to her makeshift patch job and methodically made her way up higher to the center of his back, then to each of his torn and bruised shoulder blades.

Picking up the tweezers, she began plucking the shards of glass and wood from his skin. When she pulled a particularly long and jagged piece of beer bottle from in between two of his ribs on his left side, Dean involuntarily yelped and twisted away, trying to distance himself from her ministrations.

"Maggie?" came the concerned yet aggravated voice from the kitchen.

"Oh dear…" Maggie sighed quietly before responding. "Everything's fine in here, sweetheart! Just a piece of glass!"

"Make sure he keeps it down, alright? Last thing we need is nosy neighbors pokin' around here…"

"Yes, darling." She gazed in pity down at her boy whose pained and wary gaze was fixed on hers over his left shoulder. It almost looked like there was a bit of suspicion in his clouded eyes now… The pain was dragging him back down from his high.

"You must keep quiet, baby. You don't want to anger your father already. Come now. Lay down flat again so I can stop that bleeding before it gets on the sheets."

"I c'n do it," he answered automatically, having had to patch himself up many times before. Maybe if he did it himself, it wouldn't hurt so much. Her face swam in front of his view like a funhouse mirror.

"Don't be silly. That's a mother's job!" She reached out to physically push him flat against the sheets once more but he pulled away again, tugging against the cuffs.

"Why'm I cuffed?" He blinked stupidly at his chaffing wrists. This didn't seem right at all.

"Bet you wish you had your trusty gun again."

It took a moment for those words to sink into his dazed head. He turned to look at her over his shoulder again. "What'd you jus' say?"

She matched his gaze and he felt instantly sick when her eyes flared yellow. She winked at him with an evil smile before she blinked and the yellow disappeared. "I _said_ cause we can't trust you won't run again."

"You?" In a panic, he attempted to jump off the other side of the bed but the cuffs made him draw up short and pulled him off balance. He swung around in a half circle before slamming hip first into the hard wooden floor. "Ah! Son of a bitch!"

He tried to get his legs underneath himself in order to get back up again and ease the strain on his now bleeding wrists but his hip gave a rather harsh throb and every little jostle of his right wrist sent bolts of agony through his whole arm, making it evident that he probably dislocated it. _This is so not my night…_

His arms were also pulled much tighter over his head now that he was sitting on the floor, and the strain was killing his recovering shoulder. One wrong move… and he could say goodbye to _that_ joint again as well.

"Maggie!" came the thoroughly pissed off voice from the kitchen.

"I'll _handle_ it, Edgar!"

The woman hurried around to Dean's side of the bed and knelt down in front of him, her eyes the normal blue they had been originally. Dean drew back but didn't have much room till he was pinned against the side of the mattress.

The adrenaline rush, along with the intense pain flaring through Dean's body, was helping him to fight off the drugs in his system. Had he really seen old Yellows Eyes again, or was that just another hallucination? _Sammy, you better come packin' just in case…_

Dean glared up at the woman he could now plainly see wasn't his beloved mother either. The realization was like a knife to the heart. "Who the hell _are_ you people?" he growled.

Maggie sighed in annoyance. "Your meds are wearing off already, aren't they? Seems you're building up a tolerance to it, Billy. We'll need to find you something stronger now that you're older."

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Dean shouted wanting nothing more than to wring her skinny little neck. "Get these damn cuffs offa…Mmm!"

Maggie took the opportunity of having his mouth open to slip a gag between his teeth. She quickly tied the two ends tightly behind his head.

Dean angrily shook his head, trying to dislodge the cloth with no success. He shot her a death glare as she stroked his hair sorrowfully.

"It's for your own good, you know. Those other boys… They didn't listen either, and look how that turned out."

Dean's eyes widened as all the puzzle pieces fell back into place. _All those kids… Bodies dumped by the river…_

He certainly had some choice words to fling her way in response but couldn't manage more than a few mumbled syllables.

XXXXXXXXXX

The voice of a stranger in the house shook Josh out of his light doze. He pushed himself up off the floor until he was able to slump against the wall for support. He listened intently. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, or a dream…

But no. There it was again. Much deeper than Edgar's voice, and whoever it was certainly didn't sound happy. In his heart, he wished like hell the newcomer was a cop, but in his head, he was pretty sure the guy was his replacement.

_Maybe they'll finally let me go now…_

"Hello?" he called out in barely more than a whisper. Gathering a bit more courage and clearing his throat of the left over blood from his previously broken nose, he tried again. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean stiffened immediately, having picked up on a soft voice nearby, probably in an adjoining room. _Thank god, the kid's still alive…_

That brief moment of thankfulness quickly disappeared as a seriously pissed off Edgar threw the bedroom door open and stormed inside.

TBC

Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, and please keep them coming!


	11. Silence Is Golden

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

"What in the hell is all this racket about?" Edgar demanded, marching right up to Dean and invading his personal space. It was amazing how effectively the man could morph from the nice guy offering them help on the side of the road to the pissed off and foreboding man standing before Dean now.

The elder Winchester glared back, determined not to show the man any fear.

"Don't you _dare_ disrespect me, boy!" He wrapped a surprisingly strong hand around Dean's throat, pinning him painfully against the side of the mattress. "Seventeen years I gave you food, a roof over your head, clothes on your back… And this is how you repay me? Taking off in the middle of the night and disappearing for ten years? Do you have any idea what you put your mother through?"

Dean's eyes shot over to the nervous looking woman before snapping back onto his more predominant foe.

"Don't think I'm ever going to let you forget that, you ungrateful punk. Now you are going to uphold your role in this family and start making up for all the wrongs you've done us over the years, understand? And you'll start by doing what you're told and keeping your trap shut, got it?"

Dean continued to glare back for a moment, then grudgingly nodded, unable to verbally respond with the gag in his mouth and the pressure against his windpipe. _Well this is just freakin' humiliating…_

Edgar gave him a particularly harsh shove before releasing him and Dean began to cough as air rushed back into his lungs.

Maggie quickly took advantage of the opportunity and moved between the two men, speaking up on her "son's" behalf. "He's just havin' a rough time adjustin' to his medication again, that's all, Edgar. He's not right in the head."

_Hey! _

Dean had plenty of objections he wanted to throw out in his defense, but he wisely chose not to egg the man on any further. After all, he was just getting back control over the coughing and didn't want to risk going a second round just yet.

"Well he better get used to it quickly then. I will not tolerate this sort of nonsense in my house any longer. I was too easy on him as a boy. I won't make the same mistake twice. If any neighbors come knocking, _he'll_ be the one paying the price."

"We'll be quieter, baby. Promise."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at her. _What the hell do you mean, '__**we'**__?_

Edgar softened immediately at Maggie's loving smile. "I trust you, darling." He glanced from his wife to Dean, then back to his wife again. "Hey, Maggie? Are you happy now?"

"Couldn't be happier, Edgar. Thank you for finding him again for me."

Dean rolled his eyes. _What a sucker…_

"Anything for you, my love. I'm going to get back to my supper before it gets cold, and I'll shut the door behind me as an added precaution. Talk some sense into the boy. Maybe he'll listen to you. If you need anything, just yell."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be just fine. You go enjoy your meal. And when you're finished, there's a pie in the fridge."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. These people had murdered a handful of boys in cold blood, had two kidnapped victims locked up, and here they were talking about supper and pie like a normal, loving couple.

_Demons I get. People are just crazy._

He was tempted to try and call out to Edgar's retreating back, having a feeling that he'd rather suffer at the man's hands than at whatever the woman had planned for him. But if either of them had potential for becoming a sympathetic ear to keep him alive long enough for someone to find him, it would be the woman.

Dean released the breath he had taken in a long, drawn out sigh as Edgar shut the door behind him, more or less sealing his fate.

"You alright, sweetie?" the woman asked kindly as she made her way to his side once more.

All Dean could manage was an annoyed look on his face.

"That was quite the fall you took." She reached up and gently inspected his wrists, assuming correctly that they would have taken the brunt of his weight on the way down.

He hissed when she took his dislocated wrist into her hand, teeth grinding against the cloth in his mouth to offset the pain a bit.

"This doesn't look good at all. Maybe if I just…" Without warning, she pulled on his hand until the bones in his wrist popped back into place.

Dean swore into the gag, unable to stop the tears of pain from trickling down his cheeks. His vision dimmed alarmingly as fire raced from his finger tips to his elbow, and he had to sink his claws into consciousness before he lost his grasp on it all together.

"That's better, isn't it?" She knelt down next to him and saw the tear tracks and that his eyes were screwed tightly shut against the sharp throbbing. "Oh, baby… I'm so sorry, but you brought this pain on yourself. You realize that, don't you? Now, no more struggling."

Taking a second rag from her kit, she dabbed at his cheeks until they were dry again. Dean refused to look at her thanks to equal parts of embarrassment, anger, and fear.

She tilted his chin gently, getting a good look at the dark bruise on the side of his jaw, courtesy of Cliff. "This wasn't Edgar's doing, was it?"

Dean shook his head no, his eyes fixing on a small crack in the wall to his left. Anything he could focus on that wasn't _her_.

"Your father is a good man, Billy. He means well, but you need to respect him or he will punish you for it. But don't you worry now, baby. Mommy will make it all better." She leaned in and kissed his jaw tenderly.

Dean tensed again, jerking his head away from her lips and out of her grasp.

Undeterred, she curled her fingers in his soft hair and pulled his head back against the mattress, leaving his neck vulnerable once more. She traced the angry red finger marks and purple chain-linked bruising that circled his throat like a noose thanks to Edgar and Baldy, then followed the caress with her lips.

Dean grimaced in disgust but could do little else to stop her. With no intentions of backing off, Maggie ran her fingers gently over his deeply bruised side next before leaning further down and placing soft kisses over his broken ribs as well.

Sliding closer, she seductively threw a leg over Dean's, straddling his lap. Her knee nudged the hip Dean had landed on and he grunted in pain, then froze and paled realizing he had just given away yet another injury she had no business inspecting.

"My my… Sounds like we have another boo boo in need of mommy's care…"

She smiled mischievously up at him as her hands wandered lower still, skimming over his toned abs until they reached the waistband of his low riding jeans. Dean swallowed hard and his frightened but defiant eyes locked onto hers.

_No no no no no! __ Sammy!_

XXXXXXXXXX

"No, Bobby. We can't call the cops. You _know _Dean's wanted in about half the states right now. We're gonna have to track this guy down ourselves."

"When we find 'im, remind me to kick your brother's ass for bein' so damn careless when it comes to buildin' a reputation with the law…"

"Fair enough. And as for _finding_ his sorry ass, I think I've got a lead."

"Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"The man hired a local biker to be his muscle. I recognized him from the bar fight Dean got himself into earlier. My guess is the older guy promised Cliff somethin' in return for his help, and sometime soon, Cliff's gonna want to collect."

"Sounds plausible. What do you think he roped 'im with? Money? Drugs?"

Sam's gut flip-flopped when he thought the whole situation through and the tumblers fell into place. "Dean. Cliff wants Dean."

"That idjit's in high demand these days, ain't he."

"A little too high, Bobby. He's in way over his head on this one."

"Let's go bail him out then. Where do we find this Cliff fella?"

"If anyone around here can hazard a guess, I'd say we should ask the bartender, Tommy. He seemed to know Cliff pretty well. I'm guessin' he and his posse were regulars."

"Lead the way then." Bobby tapped twice on the Impala's trunk before heading towards his truck.

Sam pushed himself off the Impala and made it one step towards the driver's door before collapsing to his knees.

Hearing a faint moan from Sam, Bobby whirled back around just in time to see the youngest Winchester hit the ground.

"Sam?"

XXXXXXXXXX

_Sammy, I swear to God if you don't come burstin' through those doors in two seconds, I'm tradin' you in for a bottle of Jack…_

Maggie was leaning towards him for another kiss on the lips while her hands worked between them on his belt buckle. The lust and underlying maternal love were evident in her gaze.

He wanted to look away but he couldn't. He was fixated on the motherly vibes he could see and longed for with every fiber of his being. The same blue eyes and blond hair…

_No! __**Not**__ the same! Mom's dead, and even if she weren't, she sure as hell wouldn't be actin' like this._

"Wa huh," Dean forced out past the gag in his mouth, reaching for any salvation he could find. It wasn't exactly understandable, but it made the woman pause.

"What was that?"

Attempting to keep her distracted, he tried again. "Wa huh!"

"Baby, I can't… You're not making any sense."

_Okay, time to turn on the charm… _As annoyed as he felt that the woman was continuing to play dumb, Dean managed a genuine puppy dog look that his brother had mastered at a young age. If it worked for Sam, then maybe…

"Alright, alright… I'm going to take the gag off, but keep your voice down if you know what's good for you. Tilt your head forward."

_Bingo! Looks like you're not the only one with the gift, little brother._

Dean leaned forward as far as he could, allowing Maggie easier access to the knot she had tied behind his head. He forced his tightened jaw to unclench as she eased the gag out of his mouth.

"There. That better?"

He nodded, trying to get enough moisture in his dry mouth to swallow.

"Now, what is it you were trying to say?" She raised his chin and was immediately hit with his pleading eyes once more.

"Water. Please."

She frowned, debating over his request. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. You should eat something too. I'll go whip up a plate for you. Stay right where you are and I'll be back in a bit." She ruffled his hair affectionately, rose to her feet, then left the room.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he was alone. He glanced around the room, looking for anything he could use as a weapon or to aid in his escape. Unfortunately, his view was limited from his spot on the floor.

Biting down on his tongue to keep quiet, he forced his legs underneath himself and pushed up until he was able to ease his way back onto the bed and get some of the pressure off of his bloody and throbbing wrists.

Examining the cuffs, he could tell they were standard issue without a safety release and he'd need to get a hold of some form of pick or get one of his "parents" to take the cuffs off in order to escape. _Lovely._

Glancing around again now that he had reached a better vantage point, he noticed there was little else in the room aside from the bed, a small nightstand with a lamp in a nearby corner that was just out of reach, and two doors- one leading into the rest of the house that Maggie and Edgar had been using, and one he assumed might lead to an attached bathroom or maybe a walk-in closet.

Since picking the lock was not an option at the moment, he turned his focus to the headboard, hoping it would be weak enough for him to break. That's when he remembered the metal-on-metal sound when he was first waking up and his heart sank. There was no way he'd be able to snap a metal bar in half, especially not in his current condition.

"Damn it!" he hissed to himself, taking care to keep his voice low enough so that the crazy couple wouldn't be able to hear him.

Taking stock of himself, he noted that he was only wearing his jeans. His shirts, boots, and socks were not in sight. After some introspection, he was at least relieved to find that he hadn't sustained any further injuries aside from his busted wrist and bruised hip. But that didn't stop the previous injuries from screaming at him now, particularly his ribs and shoulder.

He was exhausted, battling intense pain, alone, scared, hungry, thirsty, and downright cold. But above all, he was determined to not become another statistic in the obituaries. And he refused to let Josh become one as well.

_We're gettin' outta here, kid. Just hang in there, and trust me._

TBC

Please review! Plenty more to come, and if you have any ideas, feel free to make requests!


	12. Coming for You

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

When Bobby reached Sam's side, the youngest Winchester was on all fours, arms shaking with the strain of keeping his face out of the dirt. Bobby wrapped a supportive arm around his chest and tried to tilt his chin up.

"Sam? Hey, you with me? Talk to me, son."

Sam groaned, bringing a hand up to his throbbing head. "'m alright, Bobby. Jus'… Jus' got lightheaded for a sec."

He tried to push himself back up off the ground, fully intending on getting into the Impala and going after his brother, but Bobby tightened his grip, pulling Sam back down onto his knees.

"Stay down before you fall down, kid. You wanna tell me what brought this on? You have another vision or somethin'?" Then more urgently, "Did you see Dean?"

"What? No. No, it was just from takin' a hit to the head earlier. I'll be…"

"Are you idjits _tryin'_ ta kill me? Why the hell didn't you mention you were injured, boy?"

"It's not that big'a deal, Bobby."

"Oh, _clearly_…" the older man shot back sarcastically. "Sit tight while I grab a flashlight from my truck."

"Come on, Bobby… We don't have time for this! Dean…"

"Would be pissed as hell if you crashed his car cause you passed out behind the wheel. Now listen to an old man's wisdom and don't move. I'll be right back."

Bobby rose stiffly to his feet and headed for his truck, shaking his head at the stubbornness the Winchester boys shared. _These boys'll be the death of me one of these days…_

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean tried not to cringe when he heard the woman's footsteps approaching. Seconds later, she bustled through the doorway carrying a small tray with a sandwich and a glass of water on top.

Her eyes went straight to the floor where she had left him, but then rose in surprise to find him situating himself on the bed, arms back over his head so his back wouldn't be to the door.

"Alright! Here we… Oh! Well, looks like you've got some of your strength back already."

"Yeah, just… tryin' to get comfortable," he responded quietly, trying not to upset the woman if he could avoid it.

That broad smile graced her face once again. "Well of course you should be comfortable in your own room, silly!" She strode over to the side of the bed and rested the tray in the older Winchester's lap.

Dean saw a small opportunity and he went for it. "Speakin' of my room, don't you think this one is a little childish for me now? I mean, I'm twenty-seven years old. Baseball wallpaper doesn't really do it for me anymore, you know?"

Her smile quickly fell to a frown. "I'm sorry, Billy, but you know very well that there's only one other bedroom in this house and we've got a guest using it. You'll just have to…"

"Why can't we just send him on his way? You've got me back so you won't have to worry about bein' alone anymore. Just send him home and things can go back to the… way they were."

He cleared his throat when the last few words sent bile burning up his esophagus. The last thing he wanted to do was make her nostalgic for the old days or remind her of her apparently incestuous relationship with her real son, but he couldn't focus on his own escape until he knew Josh was safe.

Hearing the slight choke to his voice, Maggie raised the glass of water to his lips. Dean pulled his head back against the headboard, unwilling to trust that the woman hadn't done anything to the drink.

"Open up, baby. You sound parched. It's only water." She advanced again with the glass, and this time, Dean had no where else to go.

He cautiously sniffed the water, and only after he didn't detect any unnatural odors did he allow his lips to part far enough for her to pour a small amount of the fluid into his mouth.

He let the water sit on his tongue for a moment, looking straight into the woman's eyes to see if her expression would change or not. When she smiled lovingly at him and patted him on the head, he knew the water was safe to swallow. She didn't mean him any harm.

Maggie's eyes brightened as she leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. "And you're right, sweetheart. We don't need the other boy now that you're home." Dean's heart sped up as he felt a small ray of hope for the first time since they began this gig.

The woman turned towards the door and raised her voice so her husband could hear her from the other room. "Edgar, darling? Dispose of our guest like the others. He has overstayed his welcome."

Dean's heart plummeted right back down to his stomach which clenched painfully.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bobby returned to Sam, flashlight in hand, and focused the small beam on the back of the boy's head. He gently ran his fingers through Sam's shaggy hair, looking for lumps and/or cuts along his scalp.

When he found a swollen area coated in blood (some of which wasn't dry yet), Sam jerked away with a yelp, bringing his own hand up to massage his head. Bobby knocked his hand away.

"Hold still, runt…" Being a bit more careful the second time around, he parted Sam's hair and found the source of the boy's lightheadedness. "What in the hell did you get hit with? A baseball bat?"

"Tire iron actually. I think."

"Hate to break it to ya, kid, but you know I gotta make you sit this one out."

Sam turned to face the man, outraged. "You're benchin' _me_? Bobby, I…!"

"I can't save your brother if I'm worryin' about you too! I need backup, Sam, not a liability."

"He's my brother! I'm not just gonna sit around and wait while you go after him!"

"Yeah, Sam, you are. Get in the truck. I'll drop you off at Ellen's."

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean's eyes widened in horror as the woman's words fully sank in. "What? Nonononono...! That's not what I meant! You don't have to do this, Maggie. Just let the kid go!"

"Oh, don't be so foolish, Billy. That boy knows who we are! He'll have you taken away from me again and I simply won't allow it. He served his purpose, but now he has to go."

She placed the glass back down on the tray and stood up to check on Edgar's progress who was heading down the hall towards Josh's room.

"Don't you dare hurt him, you bastard!" Dean tried to use his adrenaline rush to break through the headboard again, but he still didn't have the strength. That didn't stop him from putting up a good fight though.

Maggie took a step towards the left side of the bed where she had been sitting and Dean swung his legs off the right, trying to maintain some distance. In doing so, he sent the tray clattering loudly to the floor. Maggie was furious.

"Now look what you've done! Your father's not going to like this one bit…"

"What in blazes are you doing in there, boy?" Edgar shouted, clearly pissed off now. Moving past Josh's room, he stormed into Dean's and took in the mess on the floor.

"Your mother just made that meal special for you, and you wasted it? You ungrateful little…!" He stepped menacingly towards Dean who rolled sideways to get his legs underneath him and retreated to the back wall, just to the right of the headboard.

"Stay the hell away from me!" Dean growled back, wishing he had at least one hand free to defend himself. As it was, he couldn't even stand up straight without straining his already torn wrists.

"I'll show you manners, punk. Maggie, keep an eye on the other boy while I teach Billy a lesson. I'll take care of the kid next."

"Please, Edgar, don't bruise him too badly. He already has…"

"Go, Maggie. You don't need to see this."

With a sorrowful look at Dean over her shoulder, she quietly stepped out of the room.

Edgar smiled maliciously over at Dean who tightened his jaw and swallowed down the lump in his throat. "It's just you and me now, boy. I'm going to make you regret the day you left this family."

"Somehow I doubt that…" Dean shot back, and then Edgar's right hook shut him up.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam, who had been slouching in his seat, more or less sulking, sat up straighter when an idea occurred to him.

"Bobby, wait. You need me to talk with Tommy. He'll remember me from earlier. If I tell him what happened to Dean, I think he'll help us track down Cliff and his gang."

Bobby huffed out a sigh as he glanced over to the concussed kid in his passenger seat. "Fine, but I'm goin' in and bringin' the bartender out. Last thing we need is to draw more attention to ourselves or get caught up in another brawl. And once the interview is over, you're still goin' to Ellen's. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Sam grumbled, already thinking of all the ways he could slip stealthily away from Ellen's watchful eye.

There was no way Bobby was keeping him out of this fight. It was personal now, and he wouldn't be able to rest easily again until his brother was back by his side, safe and sound.

XXXXXXXXXX

Josh lifted his head from his knees again when the door to his room opened and Maggie stepped inside. He had heard what the woman shouted to her husband about his fate, but hope was all he had left to cling to.

"I… I heard the other guy's voice. You've got my replacement now, right? So you can let me go. I swear I won't say anything…"

"Hush now. There's no use whimpering like a little child. After impersonating my Billy and trying to trick me, you deserve whatever fate my husband has in store for you."

She had protected this boy as often as possible from Edgar's hatred, had cared for him and tended to his wounds, had fed and bathed him like he was her son, and it had all been a lie. He wasn't her son. Now that she looked closer at him, that fact was obvious.

Tears were streaming from Josh's eyes now. "P-please…"

"That's enough! My Billy was never that weak. He never pleaded or groveled. He took his punishments like a man. How I ever let you trick me into believing you were him is beyond me. I want you out of my house, and out of my life."

She threw his torn and ratty clothes at him and he raised his bruised and bloody arms to protect his face from the impact, leaving the rags to fall into his lap. He peered timidly through his arms at her, terrified of what else might be thrown his way.

"Get dressed. Edgar will come for you when he's through with Billy."

With that, she stepped back out and slammed the door shut, leaving Josh in the dark with only Dean's muffled grunts of pain for company.

TBC

Please keep those reviews coming! Thank you all for your patience and supportive reviews from last chapter, and sorry for the long wait!


	13. Billy

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

When Bobby pulled his truck into Tommy's parking lot, he was relieved to find the other spots were empty. _Must be closin' time._ _Good._ This way, he wouldn't have to lure the man outside to get him alone.

"Wait here," he ordered Sam who grudgingly nodded.

Bobby stepped out of his truck, and hunter instincts always on alert, he made his way into the bar.

Tommy, who had been wiping down the counter, glanced up at the new arrival. "Sorry, man. Last call was half an hour ago. I'm closin' up."

"As temptin' as it sounds, I'm not here for a drink. You Tommy?"

"Depends what you need him for I guess…" Tommy answered back suspiciously, playing the safe card.

_Smart kid…_

"There were two brothers in here earlier. Got into some trouble with a biker named Cliff. Ring any bells?"

Tommy resumed his cleaning, this time wiping down the freshly cleaned mugs before putting them away. "Everyone gets into fights with Cliff. You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"One's real tall with moppy brown hair, the other is shorter with a punk ass attitude and a leather fetish…"

"You some kind of cop or somethin'?"

"Or somethin'."

"Look man, I've got work to do. I really can't help you."

"Tommy, please," came a softer voice from the front door. Both men whirled to see Sam standing there, looking a little unsteady on his feet but determined all the same.

Bobby bristled. "I told you to stay in the car, kid. Would it kill ya to listen to me just this once?"

"We don't have time to play it safe, Bobby. We've gotta find Dean."

It took Tommy a moment to catch up. "Wait, you're the guy from earlier, right? What're…?"

"I think they took my brother, Tommy. He's in a lot of trouble, and we need your help."

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean tried to protect himself from Edgar's blows, but there was little he could do. He was already bleeding from the mouth and a hard knee to his broken rib cage dropped him to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut.

Still facing the mattress with his arms straining above him at an awkward angle, Dean tried to get up again but Edgar kicked his already bruised hip, forcing Dean to roll sideways until he was facing his attacker.

He would have sworn loudly at the man, but he didn't want to scare the kid in the next room more than he already had with the grunts of pain he couldn't quite control. So instead, he hissed through the pain, then slumped wearily against the side of the box spring, trying to draw his legs up to defend his screaming abdomen.

Edgar paused to take a breath and rub his now bleeding knuckles because they were beginning to throb. In the short reprieve, the sandwich Maggie had made for the boy earlier caught his eye. He bent down and picked it up, then glanced at Dean who was on the verge of passing out.

"Hey!" Edgar backhanded Dean across the face who jerked awake in surprise. "I'm not finished with you yet, boy! Maggie made this sandwich for _you_, so you're going to eat it and be damned grateful for it, understand?"

He pulled Dean's head back with a fistful of his hair, then shoved the dirty, decrepit-looking sandwich past Dean's split lips to the point at which the eldest Winchester was choking on it.

Dean tried to escape the foul taste of whatever was between those two slices of bread but Edgar wasn't going to let him off that easily. Releasing his hair, he took hold of the boy's chin instead, forcing his mouth closed and digging his fingers into Dean's cheeks.

Pieces of the now mushy bread were making their way down the back of Dean's throat, aggravating his gag reflex and forcing him to struggle harder as it became increasingly difficult to breathe.

"Swallow it, you little…"

With a sharp jerk of his head, Dean managed to break free of Edgar's hold and spit the half-chewed food directly into the man's face with the most defiant look he could muster.

"Fuck you," he growled lowly, followed by a few gasping coughs as he spat again, this time on the floor. Anything to get rid of that awful taste…

Edgar turned at least three different colors before ending on an ugly, blotchy red as his fury took over.

Dean braced himself for what was sure to be the worst beating of his life.

XXXXXXXXXX

"The hero, right? Your brother certainly left a lasting impression on Cliff's gang… I still can't believe he tried to take 'em all on like that. But what do you want from _me_?"

Sam advanced towards the bar, occasionally using a chair or a table to steady himself. He didn't want Bobby to know black spots were occasionally messing with his vision. "Did Cliff come back here at all tonight? After the parking lot brawl I mean?"

"No. He's not as dumb as he looks. Cliff knows when I say stay away, he needs to keep his distance. For a while anyways… Our bad blood goes way back, since our early twenties."

"Do you know where he lives then? I need to find him, and the sooner the better."

When Sam reached the bar, Bobby was tempted to shove him into one of the stools before he collapsed, but he didn't want to make the boy appear weaker than he already did in front of the bartender. You're only as strong as your weakest link after all.

"He uh… He lives on the other side of the park on Division Street. If he's home, his bike will be parked out front."

"And if he's not?" Sam pressed with a little more heat than intended.

"Well then it won't do you much good, will it?" Tommy dropped the wet rag into the sink and dried his hands on his pants. He was starting to wonder if he should really be trusting these strangers with this kind of information.

He never really liked Cliff, but as much as he threatened him, he didn't wish the guy dead either. And the fire in Sam's eyes told him that if the boy found the biker tonight, he probably wouldn't be seeing Tanner ever again.

Sam took a calming breath, knowing his obvious frustration wasn't helping matters. "Please, Tommy. I just want my brother back. You saw him after the last fight. He can't take much more."

Tommy sighed. "Your brother needs to learn to back down once in a while. It might save his life someday."

He paused, hearing the sorrowful bark of laughter that escaped Sam's lips. Apparently, his brother didn't know the meaning of backing down. "Cliff lives in the small, white trailer. It's covered with biker memorabilia. You can't miss it."

"Thank you." Sam stated in all sincerity. Bobby clapped him on the shoulder to subtly stabilize Sam, then waited for Sam to make eye contact and nod that he was able to leave without face-planting. As they neared the door, Sam paused and called out to Tommy again. "Oh, one last thing!"

"Yeah?"

"You ever hear of a kid named Billy? Ran away from home at age seventeen? I've got a feelin' he was a local, and apparently he looked a lot like Dean."

After a brief moment, Tommy shrugged and shook his head. "Sorry. Never heard of him."

Slightly disappointed, Sam gave a small wave of thanks all the same before ducking out the door.

"I hope you find his brother," Tommy threw out just as Bobby pushed the door open. The man glanced back and nodded in appreciation.

"Me too. Take care."

Tommy made his way around the bar to lock up the front door as soon as it swung shut.

Sam and Bobby climbed into the truck and Bobby made it roar to life.

"Alright, so our next stop is Division Street…" Sam threw out with a hope and a prayer, neither of which did any good when Bobby sent a glare his way.

"Next stop is the roadhouse, but nice try, kid. Buckle up."

"But, Bobby…! We're not that far! We don't have time for…!"

"Damn right we don't, so I suggest you do as you're told or this truck ain't budgin' from this spot."

With an icy glare of his own, Sam did as he was told. "Drive, Bobby. Please."

XXXXXXXXXX

As soon as the truck disappeared into the night, Tommy made a beeline for his phone and punched in a number he had memorized years ago. After three rings, the other end was answered.

"Hey, Billy. It's me. There's some weird shit goin' on around here and a guy was just in, askin' about you. I hate to say it, but I think this is all tied in with the kids that turned up by the river. You know, the ones that kinda look like you? I'm sorry, man, but I think you've gotta come home."

XXXXXXXXXX

Billy leaned against the wall for support as he hung up his kitchen phone. God, he really didn't want to do this. Seventeen years he had fought to keep the past in the past and move on, but he knew he had to go back now. He wasn't about to let anyone else die in his place. It was bad enough Tommy had gotten involved.

Tommy was his best friend for the past seventeen years. He wouldn't have survived his inner demons if it wasn't for the mild-mannered bartender.

The guy hadn't asked any questions about Billy's past when they met, hadn't asked why a seventeen year old boy had taken to the streets and wound up walking past his bar one night where he got into spot of trouble with Cliff and his gang, and Tommy had looked out for him ever since. He became the big brother Billy never had.

Billy turned to face his kitchen table where newspaper articles and photos were carefully laid out. He had had suspicions that his parents were involved when the first few bodies were found, but he didn't want to believe it.

Tommy's call was like a punch to the gut. Even after all these years, his parents were still looking for him, and he knew they wouldn't stop until they got him back. Or until they were dead.

With a bellowed shout of frustration that revealed all the painful emotions he had kept locked inside for half of his life, he swiped his arm across the table, scattering the horrible proof all over the floor. It began with him, and he'd make damn sure it was going to end with him as well.

TBC

Please please please review! Much appreciated!


	14. Out of Reach

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

As Edgar slowly advanced on Dean again, he suddenly seemed a lot taller than he had before. Dean had to crane his neck back to look into those cold, hard eyes as the man towered over him in rage.

"I should have drowned you when I had the chance…"

Dean swallowed hard, and the next second, Edgar's strong hands were wrapped around his throat, squeezing like a boa constrictor crushing its prey. The more Dean struggled, the tighter the grip became.

It wasn't long before the eldest Winchester's vision began to dim and his rigid muscles started to relax. Mercifully, the intense pain in his body was starting to ebb away into blissful ignorance. Maybe giving in to the dark wasn't such a scary thing after all…

"Edgar!"

The man turned his head to gaze over his shoulder at the doorway where a terrified Maggie stood, hand over her heart in shock.

"Maggie, I…"

"For God's sake, Edgar, let him go! You're killing him!"

Like a child that had been scolded, Edgar reluctantly released Dean who gasped in air so quickly he went into a coughing fit. The tranquility was gone, but the pain came back tenfold and he slumped towards the floor in exhaustion, the cuffs the only things keeping him from collapsing completely.

Dean had been so close to giving up, to allowing the emptiness to consume him and be rid of this world and the pain and violence within it. His tattered heart longed for that peace so badly it brought tears to his eyes.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't give in now. Not while his little brother was still out searching for him. Not while Sammy still needed him.

"Sam…" he whispered out, solidifying his resolve not to give in just yet. Dean forced his abused lungs to draw in one shuddering breath after the other, keeping the darkness at bay.

"He had to be taught a lesson, Maggie. He was being defiant."

Maggie bustled into the room and over to the drug cabinet. "Sweetie, you _know _he hasn't been taking his medication all these years. We have to be lenient! Go see to the other boy while I give Billy his next injection."

With a final glare tossed over his shoulder at Dean, Edgar quietly left the room and went next door.

Dean fought to stay conscious even though his entire body was demanding otherwise. It was extremely difficult to breathe with his busted side throbbing and the swelling of his bruised throat.

He attempted to shift himself into a straighter sitting position in hopes that it would be easier to draw in air, but even the slightest movement sent his nerve endings on fire.

Something was definitely wrong. He had been in his share of fights over the years, but he had never felt this drained or disoriented afterwards, no matter how much of a beating he took.

Only when Maggie grasped his arm did Dean even realize she had crossed the room and was holding a prepared syringe in her hand. Dean's eyes went wide with fear, nearly breaking Maggie's heart. Her poor boy looked so lost and scared. But no matter. The drugs would help in a moment.

"Don't do this…" Dean rasped out. "Please. Don't…" Whatever was in that cabinet had to be responsible for why he felt so off his game. It was messing with his head.

Handcuffs or not, he should have been able to take a normal human like Edgar… Not that the man should be classified as _normal_.

Maggie lovingly stroked the side of Dean's face, down his neck, and then gently patted his good shoulder. "It's for your own good, baby." Without further ado, she jabbed the needle into his arm.

"No…" he grunted, feeling completely helpless and knowing that he was about to suffer more hallucinations that he didn't think his mind could handle right now.

Dean's head began to swim as soon as she started pressing down on the plunger and he felt the now familiar burning as the liquid raced through his muscles. His vision was also playing tricks on him already. Maggie became Mary again, only this time it was a more gruesome version.

Blood was pooling out of her normally beautiful mouth and down over her long white nightgown. She smiled, revealing red stained teeth, before laughing throatily, sounding completely deranged.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. _It's not real, it's not real…_

A soft set of lips latched onto his in a deep, possessive kiss and suddenly he could taste his mother's blood.

Dean's eyes shot open and Mary's soft blue ones stared back, right before bloody tears began making their way down her pale cheeks.

"M-mom?" He didn't realize it, but the tears he had been struggling to hold back since Edgar released him were trailing silently down his face.

Mary smiled again. "There's my beautiful boy. It's going to be okay, love." She gently wiped at his cheeks, drying the tear tracks.

"'s not real," he whimpered softly, shaking his head, trying to convince himself that his eyes could no longer be trusted.

"Of course I'm real. What a silly thing to say…"

"No." Dean slammed his eyes shut again and banged his head back against the box spring, hoping to clear his mind of the drugs. Anything to make the visions stop. "No you're not."

That soft hand was back again, this time sliding in a soothing gesture across his chest. Dean grimaced as it neared his injured side.

"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be, Billy. You know your father's rules, and he doesn't appreciate it when they're broken."

Dean paused, something familiar about her words tickling the back of his tormented mind.

_Rules…? Keep the doors locked, always assume a gun is loaded, watch out for Sammy…_

"Where's S'mmy?" He grunted as she pressed gently against his side to gauge the damage.

"Who? Oh, is that the boy in the other room? Don't you worry. He'll be gone soon."

Her eyes glinted at the mere thought of what that entailed.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Edgar stepped menacingly into Josh's room, the boy huddled himself as tightly into the corner as his shackles would allow. Thankfully, he had gotten dressed as Maggie had demanded, and his fingers clenched tightly around the fabric now covering his bruised and bloodied arms.

"Get up," Edgar stated.

"You, you promised you'd let me go when the replacement got here. Remember? You said…"

"I said get up!" Edgar marched over to the boy and pulled him roughly to his feet. Unlinking the chain from the center of the floor, he marched Josh out of the spare room and into the hallway.

Josh stumbled at every shove and tried desperately to remain on his bare feet but the previous beatings and mistreatment left him weak and trembling. The man maneuvered him into "Billy's" room, and the second Edgar released the boy's arm, Josh sank to his knees, using his cuffed hands to keep himself from face-planting.

Maggie turned to watch the show, giving Dean a clear view of the boy he was supposed to be here rescuing. Josh's eyes latched onto his, silently begging for help.

With a sharp shake of his head to clear the fuzziness, Dean forced himself to his feet before addressing Edgar. "What're you doin'?" His voice came out much shakier than he had intended and he mentally kicked himself for showing weakness.

"Getting a point across. You don't do as you're told, you make life difficult for everyone around you." In a move neither captive saw coming, Edgar swiftly wrapped the excess chain around Josh's throat and pulled the ends tightly.

"NO!" Dean screamed, frantically trying to get free as he pulled against his binds with all his might. He didn't come all this way to watch the kid die less than three feet from him. "Let 'im go, you son-of-a-bitch!" He was so full of rage and a cold fear that he didn't even notice his voice cracked as he shouted.

Josh's tortured fingers clawed desperately at the chain as short grunts and painful gurgles escaped his throat. His lips were already turning blue.

"You can't save him, Dean," Edgar stated gleefully as his eyes turned black as night. "He belonged to us since he was born. Say goodbye to your little brother…"

Dean froze, then blinked in confusion and glanced back down at the struggling boy. To his horror, it wasn't Josh being strangled anymore, but Sam. Dean's heart stopped as his chest instantly constricted with fear.

"No! Stop! Please! I'll do anythin'!" Dean screamed through his semi-collapsed throat. His wrists were bleeding again from the abuse of pulling so harshly against his binds. "Don't…!"

"You failed, Dean. Little Sammy's goin' to Hell." Edgar laughed darkly as the boy slumped against the thick chain, arms falling lax to the floor.

"NOOO! SAMMY!" Too desperate to feel the initial pain, Dean jerked his arm so hard, he felt the bones in his wrist give way once more and suddenly he was no longer tethered to the bed.

In a protective fury akin to a momma bear saving her child from a predator, Dean lunged forward and knocked Edgar to the ground. He began swinging wildly at the man's face, intent on causing as much damage as possible.

"You sick son-of-a-bitch!" he growled, so amped up on adrenaline, he didn't feel the skin on his knuckles split or the fact that two of his fingers were now broken from the abuse.

"Enough!" the man roared in rage, and as Dean drew his arm back again, Edgar morphed into John before his very eyes. _Oh god… _The momentary distraction was just long enough to turn the tables on him.

Edgar bucked him off and put a knee to his busted ribs. Dean screamed in agony, writhing beneath the man's weight as Edgar followed through with the hit and used his knee to pin the boy to the floor.

"Maggie! You put him down, or I'll take him out myself!"

The woman, who had been frozen in place the moment Dean went flying past her, regained her composure and went back to the cabinet. This time, she came back with a different fluid- a strong sedative.

Once again, Dean felt the pinch in his arm but his attention was focused elsewhere. His eyes had found the body of the moppy-haired boy that was lying motionless on the ground, the chain still wrapped around his neck. He had failed.

The fire in Dean's eyes died, as did his will to fight back. Without Sammy, he had nothing left. He felt so numb inside it ached.

The boy's hand was lying lax on the floor, mere inches away from Dean's own. He stretched, trying to make that connection one last time, but he was already too weak to reach him and his damaged fingers wouldn't cooperate.

Edgar pushed off of Dean with a grumble, then grabbed Josh's ankles and dragged him bodily from the room. Dean's blurry gaze was locked on the lanky, dark mass that he perceived to be his brother and the harder he struggled to get to him, the further away Sammy seemed to get.

A choked sob of frustration escaped Dean's lips as he twisted onto his side and tried to claw his way over to the room's entrance, his busted hand scrabbling uselessly at the unforgiving floor. Never in his life had Dean felt such anguish.

"You understand now, don't you?" Mary whispered next to him, easily flipping him onto his back once more and placing a hand over his heart to still his movements. "You have to be a good boy, Billy, or bad things will happen."

Dean didn't acknowledge the woman. He just stared blankly at where his brother's body had been moments before, until the darkness took him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bobby parked the truck as close to the roadhouse as he could to make things easier for Sam who sat silently in the passenger seat the whole ride over, cradling his throbbing head with his fingertips.

The headache had been growing in intensity all night. Never a good sign after taking a hit to the head…

"Come on, kid. Let's get you inside so you can lay down for a bit."

Bobby slid out from behind the wheel and made his way to the other side to assist Sam in case the boy's vertigo vision got the better of him.

Ellen met them at the door and directed them to a quiet room in the back near Dr. Badass's lair. "You're lucky. It's been a pretty quiet night so far, Sam. Make yourself at home, and I'll go grab ya a coupla Advil."

"Thanks." Sam sank heavily onto the makeshift bed, grateful for the darkness of the small room.

"You good?" Bobby checked, reluctant to leave the kid in the state he was in.

"Yeah," Sam grunted out, rubbing at his eyes with his index finger and thumb.

"It doesn't look deep enough to require stitches, but if it starts bleedin' again or your vision gets worse, call for Ellen, ya hear?"

"I got it, Bobby. I'll be fine. Seriously. You've gotta find Dean…"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'." Bobby headed back towards the door, preparing himself for what promised to be a long night ahead.

"Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, alright? And bring him back to me."

"I will. You just get some rest."

Sam nodded his thanks, then Bobby was gone.

TBC

Thank you guys so much for the reviews last chapter! Please keep them coming!


	15. Catching A Clue

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

An hour had passed since Bobby had left and Sam had paced the small room too many times to count. That is, until the pain in his head became intense enough to make him sit down on the edge of the bed. White flashes were starting to take over his vision, regardless of the fact that he was surrounded by total darkness.

He pressed his fingers against his eye lids with a grimace and only then did he realize this was more than just the pain of a concussion. _Please, god… Not now…_

As the images began to flood through his mind, Sam slid off the bed and onto his knees with a grunt, the agonizing pain taking over. Thanks to the head injury, it was ten times worse than the pain he normally associated with his visions.

_A used syringe lay discarded on a stained cement floor. The body of a teenage boy was being dragged down a dark hallway. Sam hears his brother screaming… Screaming for him? Dean is laying shirtless on the floor, either passed out or dead. He's a bloody mess and his mangled hand lies limply by his head, handcuffs biting into his torn wrist. _

Sam whimpered, partially due to the pain, but mostly due to the fear for Dean's life. The younger Winchester is walking a thin line between passing out and throwing up, unsure which side was going to claim him first. The onslaught continued without mercy.

_The boy's body is thrown carelessly down a familiar river bank where he rolls to a stop; bottom half in the water and top half laying limply on the shore. The sun was just barely cresting over the horizon, casting a pink glow through the surrounding trees. A man Sam recognizes from the side of the road dusts his hands off as he stares disdainfully down at his neglected charge. A door bursts open and Cliff waltzes through it with a sadistic smile on his face. He brushes past a young blonde woman who protests angrily. Cliff snorts, clearly unphased. "I've come to collect my dues. Where is he?" A gunshot blast is heard way off in the distance._

Terrified of what that final sound might mean for his brother, Sam tried desperately to push himself to his feet. He stumbled two steps before slumping to the ground again with a grunt as the room swam around his head. "Ah! Damn it!"

"Sam? You alright in there?" a soft voice called through the closed door before it slowly cracked open. Jo stepped inside, flicked on the light switch, glanced around, spotted Sam on the floor, and rushed over to kneel by him. "Oh my god… Sam?"

"'m okay, 'm okay…" he grunted automatically, feebly waving off her concern. _Learned from the best…_

"No, you're obviously _not _okay, Sam. Wait right here. I'll go grab my mom." Jo stood and turned, taking two steps towards the door before Sam shouted after her.

"No, wait! Jo! Don't!"

She turned back, exasperated. "Why the hell not?"

"Please. Just hear me out, okay? Dean's in serious trouble…"

"So I've heard." Jo crossed her arms over her chest, clearly telling Sam he'd have to do better than that if he was going to convince her that Ellen wasn't needed.

"I… I think I know how to find him."

Jo's eyebrows rose. "Why didn't you tell Bobby before he left?"

"I didn't… Look, it's somethin' I just figured out, okay? I've gotta get to Dean, and the sooner the better." Using the side of the mattress as a crutch, he leaned his elbows on it and prayed that the spinning room would stop long enough for him to make it onto his feet again.

"Sam, you can't even pick yourself up off the floor. Just give Bobby a call and tell him where to go."

"I can't! There isn't enough time! Bobby's on the other side of town, doin' recon at Cliff's house. I'm the only one that can find Dean in time."

"Who's Cliff? And in time for what?"

"… Please, Jo. I need you to trust me on this. If you care about my brother at all, you've gotta help me get outta here."

"Fine. Then I'm coming with you." She strode across the floor to the only window in the room and slid it open.

"What? No! No, I need you to stay here."

"You're not even gonna make it to the end of the parking lot in your condition, Sam. What makes you think you can rescue Dean without backup?"

Sam forced himself to his feet and swallowed down the rising nausea. "I need you _here_, Jo. You've gotta distract your mom long enough to give me a decent head's start. Just… keep her away from this room, alright? Tell her I'm sleepin' or somethin'. I don't care how you do it, but keep her off my trail for as long as you can. I promise I'll call Bobby for back up as soon as I get an exact location."

"He's gonna kill you for leavin', if my mom doesn't find you first."

"Yeah, well… They can kill me _after_ I find Dean." The pain in his skull dimming down to a dull roar, Sam was able to make it over to the window unaided and he took a deep, calming breathe of the cool, fresh air that awaited him. It helped to clear his head and the spinning room finally came to a standstill. He slid one leg out the window and straddled the wooden sill.

Jo grasped his arm, halting his escape once more. "Sam…"

"Yeah?"

She sighed, then made up her mind. "Take Ray's pick up. He's too smashed to drive himself home right now anyways. Keys are usually in the console." She pointed the vehicle out to him in the back of the lot.

Sam smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Jo."

"Be careful, Sam. And don't forget to call Bobby for back up."

With a nod of his head, Sam slid his lanky body through the window and out into the final dregs of night. He had to make it to the river before the darkness gave way to the light.

XXXXXXXXXX

A bold knock on the back door of the bar caught Tommy by surprise, but he unlocked it and threw it open all the same. "That was fast."

"I left right after you called," Billy answered, entering the bar and glancing around to make sure they were alone.

"So you gonna tell me what's goin' on, Billy? You sounded pretty spooked on the phone." Tommy cracked a beer open and handed it to his friend who took it gratefully and downed half of the bottle before answering.

"I'm not gonna bother you with the details, but I think you were right. Those kids… They died 'cause of me. And I've gotta stop it from happening again."

"Don't do this, man. Don't shut me out. Not after all these years…"

"You know you're the only friend I've got? Hell, the only friend I've ever had. I appreciate all you've done for me these past seventeen years. I really do. Not many guys would have stood up against a guy like Cliff for a total stranger."

"You were just a kid, Billy. Like I was gonna sit by and let that asshole… Well, you know what his intentions were and they weren't acceptable in my book. In fact, I had a crazy case of déjà vu earlier tonight. Cliff went after one of my patrons, just like he did with you seventeen years ago. And as weird as it sounds, the guy looked a lot like you too. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys were the same age even. It was a little freaky to say the least."

"Yeah? What happened to him?" Billy's demeanor changed instantly and Tommy could tell his story had struck a chord with the kid.

"Just tell me what's goin' on, dude…"

"_Tommy_! What happened to the guy?"

Tommy actually took a step back when he felt the frustration emanating off of Billy.

"He, uh… He disappeared not long after. His brother came in here askin' about Cliff. The guy's a jerk, but I don't think he's got the balls to go around kidnapping people."

"Not on his own, he doesn't," Billy mumbled, more to himself than to Tommy.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. I've gotta go."

"But you just got here! I haven't seen you in a few years now and when you finally show, you're on some kind of secret mission? Talk to me, buddy! Maybe I can help."

"No. I'm not gettin' you mixed up in this, Tommy. It's _my_ mess, and I'm gonna clean it up. Keep the doors locked, and if anyone comes by askin' questions, I was never here. Got it?"

"Billy…"

"Take care of yourself, man." Billy drained the rest of the beer and placed the empty bottle on the bar, then turned and walked back out the door without another word.

XXXXXXXXXX

When consciousness returned to Dean and he found the strength to crack his eyes open, the sun was starting to rise and the room was lit with an eerie pink glow that crept in through the only window.

Normally, the light of day would encourage Dean and give him strength, but now… Now day or night didn't make the slightest difference. He was still in darkness without Sammy by his side.

It quickly became evident that Edgar wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. All four of Dean's limbs were tied to their respective corners of the bedposts. There would be no slipping of cuffs this time around. But it didn't matter. He was already resigned to his fate.

Let them do their worst. At least that way, the pain inside his heart would stop. Anything would be better than this internal agony. He found sadistic pleasure in the fact that his entire body was on fire, particularly his head- which lead him to believe the drugs were well on their way out of his system once again.

And the drugs didn't leave quietly. It felt as though ants were crawling just underneath his skin and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have the urge to cut them out just to make them stop. There was also a sharp pain in his gut combined with nausea. He was conscious enough to recognize the symptoms of addiction.

_Awesome. Nothin' like a good withdrawal to take your mind offa things…_

Dean allowed his eyes to slide shut again, feeling an odd sense of comfort in the self-inflicted darkness.

"Billy?" Maggie's voice floated across the room as she glanced inside to check on him.

Dean groaned in annoyance. Why couldn't the woman just leave him to his misery?

"Oh, good. You're awake." Quick footsteps allowed Dean to track her progress from the door to the bed without having to open his eyes. Her cold fingers tapped harshly at his fevered cheek. His brow creased in response, but he didn't give her the satisfaction of responding. "Your father has left for the moment, baby. It's just us now."

"Super," he grumbled out, barely listening to her words.

"I've missed you, Billy. You know that, don't you? Your father and I… Well, our relationship just hasn't been the same since he found out… Well, about you and me. I've been so lonely, baby."

Her fingers slid down past his bruised throat and glazed over his battered chest. His frown deepened as that hand continued to caress his flesh, moving across his abs and around his navel.

"Don't," he whispered, too damn tired to really put up much of a fight.

"You just relax, sweetheart. Let mommy do all the work…" She curled her manicured fingers around the waistline of his jeans and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips.

Dean tugged weakly against the binds holding him in place and tried to turn his head away. She allowed him to break the kiss only when she decided she wanted more. Maggie peppered his broad chest with kisses next, reveling in every hiss and soft whimper that left his lips when she found a tender spot.

"Do me a favor, lady… Jus' kill me first, alrigh'? Then you can do whatever the hell you want," he rasped out through his abused throat.

"I would _never_ harm you, Billy!" The indignation was clear in her voice. "I want you in my life forever."

Dean's eyes fluttered open as he felt the jab of a needle again in his arm. The cramps and throbbing headache started to back off almost immediately. There was a time where he would have been furious. Where he would have shouted every colorful obscenity he could think of at her. Where he would fight tooth and nail to escape those bonds and take back control.

But not anymore. Now he welcomed the drugs for the short reprieve they allowed him. If she wouldn't let him die, a drug induced insanity was the next best thing so far as he could tell.

She was kissing his stomach now, mere inches above his waistline and his mind started to wander. Dark hair with even darker eyes, skin as pale as the moon, a voice that could melt your heart in seconds…

"Hush little baby, don't say a word. Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird…"

Dean lifted his head just enough to glance down his body at the woman who was worshiping his defined muscles, one by one. Those nightmarish chocolate eyes stared right back as a wide grin spread over her pale face. _Oh god… Please, no… Anyone but Sarina…_

TBC

Please review! And thank you all so much for your continued support and comments! We're getting to the climax of the story, so if there are any requests out there that you'd like to squeeze in before the end, feel free to send them over!


	16. Deja vu

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Sam knew he had no way of finding Edgar's house on the few details he had glimpsed in his vision, but he _did _know that the man would be heading to the dump site by the river again soon. With any luck, he'd be able to follow Edgar back to Dean. But at this point, he'd be lying if the idea of torturing his brother's location out of the man wasn't more tempting.

It all came down to timing. He knew Cliff was going after Dean again and Sam needed to get there before that happened. But unless the biker chose to make a pit stop at his trailer first where Bobby could pick up his trail, they had no way of finding the guy.

Staying low to avoid being seen, Sam quickly made his way to Ray's truck. Just as Jo had assumed, the keys were in the console. Sam revved the engine to life, then took off for the river. _I'm comin', Dean. Just hang on…_

XXXXXXXXXX

Bobby had been staring at Cliff's trailer for hours now, and not so much as a cat had moved anywhere near it. He knew stakeouts required time and patience, but he threw both out the window the second he heard Dean was in trouble.

With a sigh of frustration, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the roadhouse.

"Harvelle's Roadhouse. This is Ellen."

"Ellen? It's me."

"Hey, Bobby. Any luck findin' the biker yet?"

"Nah, the sonofabitch hasn't showed. How's Sam doin'?"

"Jo checked on him a while ago. Said he managed to fall asleep."

"He could certainly use it, but are you sure he's not just unconscious? As exhausted as that boy is, I find it hard to believe he'd allow himself to fall asleep without knowin' Dean's safe…"

"Does seem a bit strange, doesn't it? I'll check on 'im in a second."

"Thanks, Ellen. I'll let you know if anythin' changes on this end."

"You do that. Watch your ass out there, Bobby. Call if you need backup."

"Will do, but for now, just keep an eye on the kid."

"You got it."

When Ellen hung up, she glanced around the bar for her daughter but Jo wasn't within sight. Pursing her lips into a frown of suspicion, the wise mother made her way to the room where Sam was bunking down.

The second her hand touched the doorknob, Jo practically appeared out of thin air, quickly sliding between the door and Ellen.

"Mom! Hey. What are you doin'?"

"Checkin' on Sam. He took one hell of a hit to the head earlier if Bobby's story was anythin' to go by."

"He's fine," Jo rushed out, then forced a smile.

Ellen crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "Joanna Beth, you best start tellin' me what the hell is goin' on around here."

"Nothing! Just didn't want you to wake him up is all…" Jo tried her best to look innocent. It didn't work.

"Uh huh… Move. Now." Ellen put a hand on her daughter's shoulder and guided her away from the door.

"Mom, wait!"

Ellen flipped on the light to find the room completely empty. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sam had gone out the window. She didn't turn to face her daughter, but the creak of the old floorboards told her Jo was standing just inside the room. "You've got ten seconds to tell me everythin' you know."

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam parked his stolen truck at the edge of the park and half ran/half stumbled his way towards the river. Once he could hear the running water, he slowed his pace and switched to stealth mode.

The sun was starting to peek out over the horizon. Edgar should be showing up any minute now…

Sure enough, the soft rippling of paddles in water announced the man's arrival seconds before his canoe was rowed into sight. Sam dropped down to a crouch and slid behind a thick tree for cover.

Peering around the large trunk, he felt hatred grow in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man toss Josh's body onto the river bank haphazardly, leaving the boy half in the water and half out of it. _That sick son of a bitch…_

Slowly reaching behind himself, Sam moved to pull his gun from the back of his jeans to help with the man's "interrogation," but heavy footsteps approaching from behind him forced Sam to fall back to a more concealed location.

His jaw nearly dropped when he realized the new arrival was none other than Cliff. The biker strode right past his hiding spot, clearly focused on getting to Edgar.

When Edgar glanced up at him, Cliff decided he had waited long enough and spoke up. "You called, so here I am. Now where's the kid?"

"Not far."

Cliff took a menacing step forward, not wanting to play games anymore. "I want my reward, buddy. Are you gonna deliver or not?"

"Soon," Edgar responded, apparently not fazed by the fact that Cliff could snap him in half using only his thumbs. "I am a man of my word and I will give you the address, but you must swear to me you won't harm my wife. She's been looking after our boy since I brought him home and she won't be too thrilled with sharing him."

"If she gets in my way, it ain't my problem, pal. I helped you take the punk down, now I want what you promised in return."

Edgar sighed. "…Very well. A deal is a deal." He reached into his pocket and drew out a slip of paper which no doubt had Dean's location scrawled on it. Sam tensed immediately. This is what he'd been waiting for…

XXXXXXXXXX

"Bobby, it's Ellen. Sam's gone."

"_What?_ What the hell do you mean he's _gone_?"

"I mean I'm standin' in his room right now and he ain't here. Jo says he took a truck from the parkin' lot and went off to find Dean."

"Damn it!" Bobby smacked his steering wheel in frustration. Shooting one last glance at Cliff's place, he sighed and started up his truck. "Any idea where the idjit went?"

"Not a clue. Apparently a thought occurred to him and he decided to check it out."

"Without backup. That kid is actin' more and more like his father every damn day. Thanks for callin', Ellen. I'll see if I can track 'im down."

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I should've kept a closer eye on him."

"Don't make no difference now. Hopefully he's on the right track. Just keep a room or two open in the back cause I've got a feelin' the boys are gonna need 'em when we get back."

"It's already taken care of. Just find 'em, Bobby. You hear?"

"I hear ya."

Bobby snapped his phone shut and pulled out onto the main road. Where the hell was he supposed to start looking? He flipped his phone open again to call Sam and see if he'd answer, but his phone started ringing before he could push send.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam glanced at the boy lying limply by the river's edge, feeling a pang in his heart about having to leave him there and not giving the kid's mother some closure, but the kid was dead, and his brother wasn't. At least, he hoped to hell he wasn't. Dean had to take priority. Unless…

Staying low to the ground, Sam slowly moved back towards where he left the truck and pulled his cell from his pocket. Even if he couldn't do anything about Josh's body, there was someone who could.

"Bobby?" he whispered out, taking care not to raise his voice too high.

"_SAM_? Where in blazes are ya, kid? I thought I told ya not to leave the roadhouse!"

Sam winced at the man's tone, flashing back to the way his father used to scold him for every little screw up he ever made. "I'm goin' after Dean."

"You found him?"

"I found Cliff, and he's headed to Dean's location now. I'm gonna track him."

"You'll do no such thing!"

"Bobby, this may be our only shot. I've gotta take it and you know that."

"Tell me where you are."

"I'm at the dump site."

"Alright. Call me when you reach the destination and stay outta sight until I show up!"

"I can't do that, Bobby. Look, the man that attacked us made a deal with Cliff just like we thought. I've gotta get to him, and the sooner the better. I need you to come to the river. They uh… They just dropped Josh's body off."

"Shit…"

"Yeah. No one deserves to be ditched like that, much less a kid. He should get a proper burial at least. Watch over him while I get Dean, okay? And take care of Edgar for me. We can meet back at the roadhouse later."

"Sam, I…"

Sam shut his phone down and shoved it back into his pocket. He wasn't about to let the older man talk him out of saving his brother. He was a man on a mission, and nothing was going to stop him now.

XXXXXXXXXX

Maggie's hand drifted down a bit more to squeeze Dean's badly bruised hip who grunted in pain and feebly tried to twist out of her grip.

"Oh, that's right! I almost forgot you had another boo boo… My poor baby."

Since she had already unclipped his belt from before, she easily slid it out of the belt loops and tossed it across the room. Except, in Dean's eyes, he watched his belt land at the edge of the surf, envisioning himself back on the beach where he had first met Sarina.

Dean stared forlornly at his belt as Maggie unfastened his jeans slowly, clearly enjoying herself.

She leaned down and kissed his stomach again. Dean had to swallow hard to prevent himself from throwing up the meager contents of his stomach. _So this is it, huh? The end of Dean Winchester… Not exactly the big bang I had pictured…_

Pulling at his jeans with a primitive hunger, Maggie froze as she uncovered the finger nail-shaped scars on Dean's upper hip, courtesy of Sarina. She ran her fingers over them gently in confusion.

Dean's breath stuttered in his chest as his drugged mind continued to blur the past with the present.

The sight of those small scars seemed to open Maggie's eyes to the old injuries she had somehow neglected to notice before. Inching slowly back up his frame, she ran her hands over the roadmap of scars that Dean had acquired over the years.

Dean jerked sideways when she found the wide scar John had given to him when the man attempted to shoot Sarina and grazed his son's side in the process.

"Are these all from your daddy, baby?" Maggie asked softly, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Dean raised his head enough to glare at his old nemesis. "You know damn well he didn't mean to do that," he growled out.

"You shouldn't make him so angry. If you had just stayed quiet, none of this would have happened."

"I… I had to do it for Sammy…" _He wanted out. I promised I'd help him get out… 's all my fault…God, Dad was so pissed._

Seeing sweat beading on Dean's forehead and chest from the fever and his body's constant battle against the pain and the drugs, Maggie rewet one of the facecloths in the now cold water and began dabbing gently at his skin.

Dean shivered the second the cold water dripped on his chest. _Water? No… No no no… Please!_

He started fighting once again, drawing on as much strength as he could muster, but the binds on each of his limbs limited his wiggle room.

Maggie cupped the side of his face, rubbing her thumb softly across his cheekbone. "Stop squirming, baby. Just relax…"

Dean whimpered in fear. _Please, not again…_

TBC

Please please please review! Lots more action to come!


	17. Full House

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Sam stayed as far behind Cliff as he dared in order to avoid giving himself away. He knew Edgar would have to live close to the river if he transported all the bodies with his canoe, but other than that, Sam didn't have any way to narrow the search down further.

He followed the biker around a few more twists and turns, and then after a particularly sharp left, there was a brief moment of panic when he lost sight of Cliff's truck entirely. Quickly rolling down his windows, Sam strained his ears and heard a truck door slam shut a few yards ahead on his right.

Driving past the yard just to be safe, Sam glanced at the driveway and let out a huge sigh of relief when he saw Cliff heading up to a large, red house. _Gotcha._

XXXXXXXXXX

Cliff tried the doorknob, then knocked loudly. After waiting five seconds, he knocked again even harder. Patience was a virtue he lacked.

"Coming!" came a female's voice from within. _The wife, _Cliff reasoned before banging on the door once more. It creaked open seconds later. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. Your husband and I had a deal. I've come to take the punk off your hands."

"Sorry? I have no idea what you're… Hey!"

Cliff pushed past her in annoyance, letting himself inside. "Where's the kid, lady?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam took the next right, and the next one after that, coming up on the back of the house if he cut through the neighbor's yard. Parking out on the street, Sam checked the glove compartment for a weapon he could use because Bobby made him surrender his gun back at the roadhouse, supposedly to keep Sam from doing something stupid… Like this. Unfortunately, Ray wasn't the kind of guy to pack heat.

"Damn it…" Glancing up, he could see the top of Cliff's truck over the short fence, separating the two yards. Keeping an eye out for nosy neighbors, Sam quickly jogged across the yard, hopped the fence, and made his way to the bed of Cliff's truck.

Peering over the side, Sam smirked. _Bingo. _ Ignoring the fact that his own blood was staining the end of it, he took the tire iron and made his way to the back windows, trying to find the room his brother was in.

He could hear Cliff arguing with a woman inside, and judging by the fact Cliff's voice seemed to be traveling from room to room, Sam figured he didn't have much time. He needed to find Dean and get him the hell out of there.

Glancing into three different rooms left Sam feeling more anxious and frustrated by the second. Finally, he peered into what looked like a young boy's bedroom, and there on the bed was Dean. Needless to say, he looked like shit.

Dean was lying perfectly still with his eyes closed, his limbs tied to the bed posts, and tremors seemed to be coursing through his scantily clad body.

Shifting his eyes towards the bedroom door, Sam felt some of his relief return when he saw that Cliff hadn't found his brother yet. Unfortunately, there was no lock on the door to keep the biker out once he did. Prying the old window open, Sam lifted himself up onto the frame and slid quietly inside.

He crept over to the bed and held his breath, hoping against hope that Dean would be conscious. Scanning his brother's body for serious injuries, Sam's stomach flipped at the abundance of wounds he saw. But he didn't have time to dwell on them just now.

Placing the tire iron against the side of the bed to free up his hands, he reached out and started untying Dean's right wrist.

Dean's eyes shot open and a gasp of pain escaped his lips as Sam jarred his damaged arm. Sam quickly covered his brother's mouth to stifle the sound.

"Dean? Hey, it's me, man. I'm gonna get you outta here. Just hang on…"

"S-Sammy?" Dean croaked out through a parched throat, sounding utterly confused.

"Yeah, bro. I've gotcha." Carefully leaning over Dean, he managed to get his brother's left wrist untied as well. What he hadn't been expecting was for that hand to ball into a fist and fly at his head.

Sam stumbled back a few feet, rubbing his throbbing cheek in shock. "Dean! What are…?"

"Who the hell _are_ you?" Dean growled as he weakly attempted to sit up. With his busted ribs sending bolts of pain through his torso at every move, he settled for rolling slightly to his right and levering himself up a few inches with his elbow.

"Dean, it's me. Sam. What's wrong with…?"

"Sam's dead. I watched him die! You've got one more chance to... Mph!" Dean's voice was rising with every word and Sam, ignoring the ringing in his head from having his bell rung yet again, lunged forward and clamped his hand back over his brother's mouth.

"Dean, you've gotta stay quiet, man. I'm tryin' to get you outta here."

Dean grunted indignantly as he was knocked back flat against the mattress again. He scowled in anger and attempted to throw another punch at Sam's head who ducked easily, grabbed hold of his brother's flailing wrist, and pinned it to the bed by Dean's head.

Dean yelped at the contact when Sam's tight grip wrapped around his lacerated wrist. His right hand came up automatically, but his damaged rotator cuff cracked loudly and his arm fell limply back to the bed. Dean's eyes slammed shut and he arched his head back in agony but luckily his scream was muffled by Sam's hand.

"Stop fighting me, Dean!" Sam hissed, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder towards the door. His instincts told him they were running short on time. Sure enough, Sam could see Cliff's shadow getting closer from the small gap underneath the door. The biker was probably following the sounds that Dean had made before Sam could shut him up.

Looking back down at his brother who had gone still beneath his weight, Sam felt his heart clench at the naked emotions in Dean's eyes. He saw fear, confusion, pain, hope, sadness, and even love that was warring with hate as Dean struggled to remind himself that Sammy was dead and this thing before him was just another illusion, or maybe a shifter...

After a few short seconds, all those emotions seemed to morph into one; defeat. Sam practically felt the fire leave his brother's soul and it terrified him. "Dean?" he asked softly, hoping against hope that his indestructible, wise-ass brother was still in there somewhere. He slowly eased his hand away from Dean's mouth, keeping it close just in case his brother decided to start yelling again. "Hey, talk to me, man…"

Dean was in agony; the abdominal cramps were starting to come back along with the intense headache, he was relatively sure that his right shoulder was dislocated again, the ants beneath his skin seemed to be gone for the moment but they had been replaced by fire that scorched through his veins without mercy, his ribs hurt so badly it was getting harder and harder to breathe, his soul had been crushed repeatedly since this nightmare began, and he just needed it all to end. He was done fighting for nothing. Without his Sammy, he had no reason left to live.

He blinked up at the apparition hovering above him, no longer caring if the misery was written all over his face or not, and a single tear escaped the corner of his right eye. "Please. Just kill me and be done with it," he whispered brokenly.

Those few words were like a knife to Sam's gut. Dean was always the strong one; the one that spit in the face of death and cracked a joke even if he was covered in his own blood and barely clinging to consciousness.

The elder Winchester had been strung up by a Wendigo, tortured by a family of psycho hillbillies, nearly sacrificed to a scarecrow… And not once had Sam ever heard Dean beg for mercy. Seeing the desperation in his brother's eyes almost made him lose hope himself.

"Dean, I…" Sam struggled to find the words that might comfort his distraught idol.

Dean pulled on the only mask he had left and used his fear and pain to fuel his anger. "Just do it!" he barked, and using every bit of strength he could muster, he surged forward at Sam, fully intending on going out with a fight.

Acting on pure instinct, Sam threw a well-placed punch and sent Dean sprawling back onto the mattress, unconscious. Sam winced, knowing he just added another sizable bruise to Dean's extensive collection. "Damn it, Dean... I'm sorry, man, but you didn't leave me much choice."

Heavy footsteps could be heard directly outside of the bedroom door now and Sam froze, unsure of what his next course of action should be. Grabbing the tire iron, he dropped to the floor, using the high bed as his cover. _Shit shit shit!_

Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open and Cliff stood there menacingly. His gaze traveled slowly over Dean's motionless, half bound, half naked body and a smirk crossed his face. "Looks like the party started without me."

XXXXXXXXXX

Bobby left his car at the park's entrance and made his way to the dump site. As soon as he could hear the moving water, he drew his gun and prepared himself to take on Edgar. The problem was, the man was no where to be found.

"Balls!" Bobby whipped out his cell and punched in Sam's number to warn him that Edgar was probably on his way back home, but the call went straight to voicemail. "Damn it, boy!"

He started to head back to his truck when a small movement down by the river caught his eye. He raised his gun again on instinct and walked slowly towards the object that had grabbed his attention.

It was Josh's body, floating halfway in the river. Letting out a sigh, Bobby slid the gun into the waistband of his jeans and made his way down the short slope to the river's edge with a heavy heart. Gripping the kid's cold wrists in his hands, he started dragging him further up onto the river bank when a soft, pained groan made him freeze.

"Jesus H. Christ…" The kid was still alive.

Bobby gently lowered the boy's limbs back to the ground and knelt beside him. "Hey, kid. Can ya hear me?"

There was no response. Bobby rested a heavy hand on Josh's chest and just barely felt the shallow rise and fall of the boy's breathing. He was desperately clutching at life, no mistake about it. "Keep fightin', son. I'm gonna get you some help. Just don't give up on me."

As much as he wanted to take off and rescue the Winchesters, he needed to get the kid to a hospital or Josh wasn't going to make it. There had been a few emergency signs on his way into town that would lead him in the right direction.

Talk about a screwed up version of ding dong ditch... but he didn't have much choice. He wasn't about to leave the kid here to die, but he couldn't stay and answer the cops' questions either. Not when his boys needed rescuing too.

Lifting the emaciated teen into his arms much easier than should have been possible, Bobby began his trek back to the truck.

_Hang in there, boys. I'm comin' for you lot next._

XXXXXXXXXX

Cliff strode confidently towards Dean and a terrified woman bustled through the door after him. "Please! Don't hurt my son!"

"I let 'im get away from me ten years ago, lady. I ain't gonna make the same mistake twice." As Cliff reached out for Dean, Sam stood and raised the tire iron like a baseball bat.

"You've got the wrong guy, asshole. Stand back."

Cliff took a step back automatically in surprise. "What the…? Oh, I remember you… Haven't had enough yet, kid?" he sneered. "Wait your turn. Pretty Boy's first." He moved forward again with a complete lack of concern for Sam and his tire iron.

Sam tensed immediately, preparing to swing. "I said stay _back_! Don't you touch him."

"And what exactly are you gonna do about it, huh?" Cliff's gaze lingered on Dean's unfastened, low-riding jeans and a hungry smile made him look like a possessed jack-o-lantern.

It made Sam's skin crawl and he tightened his grip on the tire iron and attempted to send an intimidating glare Cliff's way, but as he tried to focus, Cliff seemed to separate into two, then slowly morphed back into one as a lightheaded feeling overtook him.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't fully up for another fight just yet… Didn't mean he wasn't going to try. Sam shook his head, forcing his vision to cooperate long enough to strike.

When Cliff's hand latched onto Dean's bound ankle and started sliding up his leg possessively, Sam held true to his threat and swung the weapon with as much strength as he could muster. It struck the man's forearm and a sickening snap told Sam his aim had been true.

Cliff howled in pain. "Why you little…!" He started to round the bottom of the bed towards the youngest Winchester when a new voice brought him up short, followed closely by the cocking of a gun.

"Hold it, Cliff. Your beef is with me."

Cliff did a double take, then stared at the latest arrival who stood stiffly in the doorway, then stared at Dean, then turned back to the guy at the door again with his mouth hanging open.

"What the…?" _It can't be…_

TBC

Please keep those wonderful reviews coming! This chapter is dedicated to scifigeek22 (feel better soon!) and Emerald-Water for their continued support and advice!

Also, I'd like to give a shout out to my most devoted reviewers: Mary Glenn, CanadaNL, gr8read, Rosetta Brunestud, Colby's girl, and kixtoby in particular. I don't think you guys have missed a single chapter and I appreciate your dedication so much! Hugs to everyone, and more chapters to come!


	18. He's the One

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Maggie spun around with a startled squeak as another apparent stranger appeared in her house. When her eyes landed on the young man, she was as stupefied as Cliff.

"B-Billy? B-but…" She sent a confused look towards the unconscious Dean, unsure what to believe at this point.

Sam's eyes widened in shock as the puzzle pieces finally came together. _Ellen said Edgar had lost his son, but she never said he actually died…_

"Mom," Billy acknowledged in a flat voice. His eyes were fixed on Cliff though, utterly refusing to admit the fact that being in his old room terrified him. "I suggest you leave, Cliff. You really don't want to piss me off today."

Cliff scoffed, quickly regaining his composure. "Is that right? The little boy's all grown up now and thinks he can take on the big bad biker, is that it?" He took a casual step towards Billy who held his ground.

"Keep your distance if you know what's good for ya. Believe me, I've got no problem puttin' you down, you son of a bitch."

Cliff glanced at the hallway behind Billy before returning his gaze to the kid. "Where's your bodyguard, boy? He know you're here?"

"Tommy sends his best," Billy growled.

Sam glanced between the two guys, completely clueless as to what he should be doing. He was still standing protectively over the bed, tire iron raised to strike if anyone attempted to harm his brother any further. But before he could demand some answers, Maggie beat him to it.

"Where have you been, Billy? Your father has been lookin' all over for you!" With hands on her hips and a frown on her face, she looked like a mother scolding her young child for playing hide and seek. She seemed to have forgotten all about the Winchester boys and Cliff, and as far as Sam was concerned, that was fine by him.

"Not now," Billy responded with the same monotonous voice.

"Ten _years_, baby! Why…?"

"I _said_ not now!" he barked back, losing the calm façade he was trying so hard to hold onto. He took a deep breath to compose himself again, then turned his attention to Sam. "Take him and get outta here." He motioned towards Dean with the barrel of the gun before returning his aim to Cliff.

Sam nodded once in gratitude and, knowing that Billy had the biker covered with the gun, he placed the tire iron on the side of the bed again and quickly untied his brother's ankles. Sending a defiant look Cliff's way, he then carefully tugged Dean's jeans back up where they belonged and fastened them.

He locked his jaw in anger when his eyes fell on the finger nail scars Sarina had left Dean ten years ago, but what really pissed him off was the second set of fresh marks right next to them. _God, Dean…_ These people were going to pay for what they put his brother through.

Glancing around the room, Sam grumbled under his breath when all he could find was Dean's belt, but none of his other clothes or his boots.

Shrugging out of his own jacket, he expertly pulled Dean into a sitting position and slid his limp arms into the sleeves. It was by no means hot outside and the last thing he needed was to get Dean sick on top of his extensive injuries. _Better than nothin'…_

Now the question became how was he going to be able to carry Dean out of the house, over the fence, and to the truck parked on the neighboring street when he was barely able to walk a straight line himself? Not to mention he was afraid to touch his brother for fear of causing him further injury.

Knowing he didn't have much choice, he prayed Dean would stay unconscious en route as he hoisted his brother up into a fireman's carry over his shoulder. With any luck, Bobby would arrive soon and together they'd be able to transport Dean more comfortably. But the sooner he got his brother out of this house, the better.

Maggie stepped forward furiously, arm outstretched towards Dean. "Don't you take him away from me!"

"You don't need him anymore, Mom. You've got me. Now stand aside and let them pass," Billy commanded.

Sam hoped he was the only one who heard Billy's voice catch. Clearly the guy was barely holding it together.

"Come _with_ me, Billy," Sam stated softly, not wanting to leave the guy in this nightmarish house without any backup.

"I can't." The resignation in his eyes tugged at Sam's protective streak instantly.

"It'll be okay, man. We can keep you safe."

"You don't understand. They won't quit until they get what they want. I'm not gonna let anyone else die for me. Just go."

Weighing his options, Sam shifted Dean a bit higher onto his shoulder, purposefully ignoring the soft whimper of pain it invoked, then strode past everyone in the room and out the door. _I'm so sorry, Billy. I'll come back for you._

"This ain't over, Pretty Boy!" Cliff called to Sam's retreating back but Sam ignored him.

The younger Winchester stumbled his way out of the house, glanced to the left for an easy access route back to the truck, then started turning to check his right when a heavy force slammed against the back of his right knee and knocked him to the ground.

He tried to protect his unconscious brother on the way down and with a massive amount of effort, he managed to not land directly on top of Dean. But having to brace himself with both arms meant he was not able to cushion Dean's head as it connected with the ground.

Sam's knee locked up with the additional impact as he hit the dirt and white sparks flashed before his eyes. _What the hell…?_

Straining his neck around, Sam got a momentary glimpse of his attacker before a harsh blow to his right side landed him on his back. Edgar stood over him with a canoe paddle poised to strike once more.

"Where do you think you're goin', kid?"

"It's over, Edgar," Sam panted, holding his arms out in front of him in a placating manner, hoping to avoid further injuries. "Your real son is inside. Just let me get my brother to a hospital."

"My… My son? Billy's home?"

Sam nodded, trying to keep the man's focus off of his brother.

"The plan worked then. I wasn't sure it would. He was always so weak, I didn't think he'd ever come home. But now things are back the way they're supposed to be. And all that's left is to clean up loose ends." Edgar seemed to be talking to himself rather than Sam who didn't like the sound of the man's last statement.

Without another word, Edgar pitched the oar as close to the water as he could, then bent down and grabbed the front of the jacket Sam had put on Dean moments ago and started dragging him towards the river.

"NO!" Sam screamed, reaching out for his brother but unable to get a tight enough grasp on him before he was pulled out of range. He tried to force himself onto his feet but his leg wouldn't support his weight and he collapsed back down to his knees. Refusing to let that stop him, he began to crawl. "Stop! Please!" _Wake up, Dean! Please, wake up!_

XXXXXXXXXX

Back inside the house, Billy, Cliff, and Maggie were at a standstill, waiting for someone to make the first move.

"You ain't gonna shoot anybody, kid, so why don't you just put the gun down and we can settle this like men," Cliff attempted.

"Settle this like men, huh? You mean like last time?" Billy growled back, his gun hand never wavering.

"That was ten years ago, man. Let's just put the past behind us, yeah?" Cliff's eyes flicked between the gun and the ghost from his past.

"Right, and you're just here to deliver pizzas, is that it? I'm not buyin' it, Cliff. You're still pissed that Tommy bested you even after all this time, and you're never gonna let it go. Not unless I make you."

Sam's distant scream of desperation drew their attention and Maggie went pale. "Your father's home."

"Good. I've been meanin' to have a word with him." Billy's eyes hardened.

XXXXXXXXXX

Edgar dragged Dean down to the river's edge without much difficulty. This boy had caused him so much trouble, he was intent on ending his life here and now. He'd transfer the body down the river to the dump site later. For the moment, he'd settle for watching the kid take his last breath.

With more strength than anyone would have given him credit for due to his small stature, Edgar dragged Dean a few more feet until the boy's torso was hovering over the slow moving river and then shoved him under the water.

For a few seconds, Dean remained a limp doll in his hands, but the cold water quickly brought the boy back to consciousness with a jolt and he panicked when he was unable to draw in air.

Dean's eyes shot open beneath the surface of the water and his muscles immediately tensed in self-defense. He tried to lift his head out of the flowing stream, but Edgar's grip on his coat tightened and Dean found himself being pushed in even deeper.

Instantly, his mind was assaulted by the memory of Sarina pawing at him under the water as his lungs screamed in protest. _"Stop squirming, Dean. Just relax…"_

He wanted to break the man's grip but his right arm wasn't responding. His broken left wrist wasn't capable of taking on Edgar's strength either, but at least it wasn't completely useless.

Flailing around wildly beneath the water, his left hand bumped into a smooth but decent sized rock and he gripped it as tightly as he could. Using all the strength a desperate man could muster, he brought the rock up and slammed it into the side of Edgar's head.

The second the man's hands released him, Dean fought his way back to the surface and drew in the biggest breath his tortured lungs could handle. He gasped and spluttered, looking like a fish out of water as he scrambled through the mud, trying to distance himself from the man that was trying to kill him.

Agony flared through his broken wrist as he leaned on it without thinking. He collapsed onto his back with a grunt as the limb refused to hold his weight any longer.

Dean thought he could hear Sammy screaming for him in the distance, but that was probably just part of the flashback too. Sam was dead. He watched him die.

XXXXXXXXXX

Maggie tilted her head to the side, doing some quick logical math, and she didn't like the answer she came up with. Edgar was home, and that didn't bode well for the others in the least bit.

"He's going to kill the boy… I can't let him do that. I _won't_ let him do that…" Maggie darted for the bedroom door, knocking Billy off balance as she raced down the hallway.

Cliff seized the opportunity and lunged at the kid, sending the gun out of Billy's grasp and sailing through the hall in Maggie's wake. Hearing the clatter and metallic scraping as the gun slid across the floor behind her, Maggie turned, bent down, and picked it up.

"That boy belongs to _me_ now. I won't let Edgar take him away. Edgar always takes them away. This one belongs to me…" She turned back towards the front door and, continuing to mutter under her breath, she stepped out onto the front stairs, clearly ignoring the tussle taking place at the other end of the house.

XXXXXXXXXX

Billy was stunned when he hit the floor and Cliff's significant weight landed on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs. The biker smiled evilly.

"You and me, we got some unfinished business, boy."

XXXXXXXXXX

Edgar took a moment to recover from the blow, but when he did, he was even angrier than before. He crawled over to where Dean was sprawled, looking completely deranged as blood dripped down the side of his face from the gash the rock had created.

He threw a quick and punishing punch to Dean's cheek, snapping his head to the side. Without giving the boy a reprieve, he straddled Dean's heaving chest to pin him down, then reached towards him with a deadly glint in his eyes.

Dean was still attempting to gasp in air when the man's strong hands wrapped around his throat in a vice grip, instantly putting a stop to his oxygen intake once again. Eyes wide with fear, the boy tried to buck Edgar off of him but he only had his legs to help him now. Unfortunately, he didn't have the strength or energy to lift them high enough to unseat the man who was crushing his chest.

His vision was starting to go dark and his limbs were getting weaker by the second. Pushing past the pain, Dean was able to find a peaceful sense of acceptance. _I'm comin', Sammy. Wait for me._

XXXXXXXXXX

Maggie's frantic gaze landed on the youngest Winchester first who clearly wasn't too much of a threat as he attempted to drag himself towards the water.

_The water…_

She hurried down the steps and flew past the moppy-haired stranger with one clear thought in her mind. _I have to save the boy. He's the one. I have to stop Edgar._

When she reached the river's edge, her heart skipped a beat. Edgar was sitting astride the boy's chest and he was choking the life out of him. The boy was barely struggling now and his eyes were starting to roll up inside his head. _No…_

"Edgar, don't kill him!" she pleaded, tears filling her eyes.

Not even sparing his wife a glance, Edgar's resolve didn't waver. He was going to watch the fire in the kid's eyes go out, and he was going to enjoy every second of it. "I have to, Maggie. We've got our _real_ son back now. This boy is of no use to us anymore."

"You're wrong." A sad smile flitted across Maggie's face as she placed her free hand against her flat stomach. "Edgar, he's going to be a daddy."

TBC

Mwah ha ha… Please don't kill me! I promise the ending will be explained more by the end, so hang in there, and keep those reviews coming!


	19. Make It Stop

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Edgar released Dean's throat immediately. "What did you say?" he asked, turning his full attention to his wife.

"He's going to be a daddy, Edgar. It's what we've been waiting for all these years. _He's_ the one."

The man's eyes brightened. "We're going to have a baby?"

"Yes, darling. And unless you want this to be the last one, you need to bring that boy back home."

Edgar looked down at the barely conscious Dean in thought. Truth be told, as much as he wanted another child, he hated the fact that he hadn't been able to give his wife that gift instead of this stranger. _This is all my fault…_

Sam had frozen in place at Maggie's news. He was still a good distance away, but he could see his brother and the deranged couple standing over him. Dean wasn't moving, and for the first time in his life, Sam considered the possibility that it might be for the best.

_No! I'm not gonna let him die, and I'm not gonna let him be taken back inside that hell hole again. I'm comin', big brother. Please, just hold on…_

He started crawling forward again with renewed determination. These psychos weren't going to live past today. They had chosen their own fate the second they had taken Dean.

XXXXXXXXXX

Back inside, Cliff's face hovered menacingly over Billy's as he kept him pinned to the ground.

"You were the one that got away, kid. But luck only lasts for so long. You had to know I was gonna find you again someday."

Billy struggled as Cliff pinned his arms to the floor above his head. "Get the hell offa me, asshole."

"Like I said, we've got unfinished business. And this time, Tommy ain't here to watch your back." Leaning forward, he used his left forearm to keep Billy's wrists down, freeing up his right hand. "You're still as pretty as I remembered, though I gotta say, that other guy put up a hell of a better fight than you did. Maybe I'm not the only one that's been wantin' this…"

Cliff ran his calloused hand down Billy's torso possessively, then slid it up and under the boy's thin t-shirt.

Billy spit in the biker's face.

Cliff growled, wiping the saliva off with his free hand before drying it on Billy's shirt.

"Bad move, kid. I could have made this good for both of us, but you just knocked my offer off the table along with my manners. You were right. I did come here for a reason, and I ain't leavin' till I get what I want."

"Screw you," Billy hissed, making Cliff smirk.

"In your dreams…" Grabbing the boy's cheeks in a bruising grip, Cliff crushed their lips together in a show of dominance rather than lust. He was in control, and he wanted Billy to know that.

The second he lifted his head again, the biker rammed his meaty fist into the kid's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of his lungs forcefully and sending fire through his veins.

Gasping for air, Billy instinctively tried to turn on his side to protect himself and Cliff allowed the move then took advantage of it, pushing Billy the rest of the way over and pinning him face down by straddling his legs.

Cliff pushed the hem of the boy's shirt up, giving him easy access to the waistband of his jeans. Placing his left hand on the small of Billy's back, he kept him pressed painfully hard into the floor.

The boy tried frantically to get his limbs underneath him in order to gain enough leverage to break free, but Cliff's significant weight and strength prevented him from succeeding.

"Ten years I've been waitin' for this, Billy Boy. So excuse me if I skip the foreplay." Cliff slid his free hand over the kid's hip suggestively before taking a firm hold on the waistband of his jeans.

"Hold it right there!" a deep voice barked from the open window.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean slowly blinked glazed eyes up at Edgar, looking every bit as defeated as he felt. There was no fight left in him. He only hoped the man would end his life swiftly and relatively painlessly.

Edgar sat quietly in thought for a moment, still sitting atop Dean's chest to prevent him from fighting back in any way. Soon enough, he came to a conclusion.

"We've got our Billy back now, Maggie, and this boy is too much of a liability. People will come looking for him, and he'll never give up trying to escape. We'll raise that baby together and you will not sleep around with any other strangers. This all ends now."

He picked up the rock Dean had hit him with and raised it above his head, intending to bring it down and end the nuisance trapped beneath him.

"Do it," Dean croaked out.

"NO!" Sam screamed at the top of his lungs as he watched the man prepare to take his brother from him once and for all.

_BANG!_

Edgar froze in mid-motion, then slowly slumped to the side. By the time he hit the ground, he was dead.

Dean turned his head and locked eyes with the man of his recent nightmares. He was completely stunned.

Sam had nearly jumped out of his skin when the shot rang through the otherwise quiet neighborhood. Glancing around for the source, his jaw fell open when the smoking barrel was in none other than Maggie's own hand. She had killed her own husband in order to save Dean.

Sliding down the relatively steep slope near the river's edge, Sam finally reached his brother's side. Taking a quick second to make sure Maggie was too stunned at her own deed to attempt shooting him too, Sam turned his attention back to Dean.

"Hey. Hey, you with me, big brother?" Realizing Dean was still gaping at the body next to him, Sam reached out and gently turned Dean's head towards him. "Look at me, man. You gotta hang in there, alright? I'm gonna get you outta here. Just stay with me."

Sam shoved Edgar's restraining leg off of his brother's chest and tugged the two sides of the jacket together to cover Dean's badly bruised chest, wishing there was something more he could be doing to protect him.

The elder Winchester was shaking painfully hard now and refused to talk, half out of pure exhaustion and half out of fear because he didn't know what was real anymore and what wasn't.

This couldn't be Sammy in front of him, and yet it sounded like him, looked like him, acted like him… Hell, it even smelled like him. He'd give anything to make it true.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Bobby had been driving Josh to the hospital, the kid had whimpered out one word. Edgar. Placing a quick call to the Roadhouse, Ellen and Ash figured the rest out, including an exact location.

Bobby left the boy just outside of the emergency entrance and called in an anonymous tip to make sure they found him before jumping back on the road and making a beeline for Edgar's house, hoping like hell he wasn't already too late.

Not particularly concerned about stealth at this point, Bobby pulled right into the driveway behind a large truck he could only assume was Cliff's. The Impala was no where to be seen. Either Sam had already left and failed to call with the updates, or more than likely, he parked where he couldn't be seen in order to maintain the element of surprise.

Grabbing up his gun, Bobby headed past the side of the house and into the backyard, then started searching in every window hoping to get a glimpse of the Winchester boys. It wasn't long before he heard struggling coming from one of the back rooms. Leading with his gun, he peered in through the already opened window.

Two men were grappling on the floor, but one was clearly losing the fight. The fact that he resembled Dean had Bobby's heart pounding that much harder in his chest.

"Hold it right there!"

The loud voice made Cliff halt his assault and glance up in surprise, not to mention annoyance.

"Who the hell are _you_?" he growled.

"I'm the one who's gonna introduce you to your maker if you don't do exactly what I tell you to do. Now, I suggest you let that boy up, son. Nice and slow…"

"You have no idea who you're dealin' with, old man."

"Oh, I've got a clue, punk. _You're_ the one who's stepped in it. Get your ass up."

Cliff stood stiffly and the second Billy was free, the boy leapt to his feet, snatched the tire iron from the side of the bed, and swung it full force at the biker's head. Cliff hit the ground with a grunt and laid there, motionlessly.

"You okay, kid?" Bobby asked tentatively, seeing that the boy was trembling.

"Yeah. Yeah, I've got this now. Thank you."

"There was another guy, looks a lot like you. Have you seen 'im?"

"Left here not too long ago with a really tall guy. I think my dad got home before they made it out safely though. He probably took them to the river."

"You sure you've got things handled here?"

Billy wiped a trickle of blood from his busted lip before raising the slugger once more. "Yeah. Go. Help them."

Bobby nodded and left the boy to "handle" things. He didn't suspect he'd be seeing Cliff ever again. So far as he was concerned, it was good riddance.

He slid quietly around the house and made his way towards the river. _Please let the boys be alright…_

A loud gunshot had his heart leaping into his throat.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean weakly tried to push himself into a sitting position but a firm hand to his shoulder kept him flat on the ground.

"Don't move, man. You're a mess."

As the elder Winchester started to turn his head back to look at Edgar again, Sam cupped his cheek and turned him back in the other direction. "He's dead, Dean. You're safe now. I've got you."

Dean's head was swimming. The lack of oxygen coupled with the dregs of the drugs were making the world spin and the colors blend together. He was positive that even if he could manage to make it onto his feet, he'd end up back in the mud before he could say "crap."

Sam used the sleeve of his shirt to dry the water off his brother's face. Only then did he realize that not all the water was from the river. His brother was crying.

"Dean? Hey, it's gonna be okay." He smoothed Dean's matted bangs back so they stood up in their usual spikes.

"D-drugs…" Dean forced out through chattering teeth. The cramping had returned with a fierce vengeance, as did the throbbing headache. He needed another shot or they weren't going anywhere.

"We'll get you some pain meds as soon as we get back to the Impala, alright?"

"N-no. The d-drugs. P-please…" Dean's eyebrows drew together as his desperation and need were written all over his face. "M-make it… s-stop."

TBC

Please review!


	20. Trauma

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

"What drugs, Dean?" Sam demanded, starting to feel desperate again. His brother was clearly suffering, and there was no worse feeling than to finally have Dean back, safe in his arms, but being unable to help him. "I don't understand."

"He needs his medication," Maggie smirked, knowing she held all the cards.

Sam looked up at her. "Medication? Dean doesn't take any medication."

"He does now."

"What the hell did you do to my brother?" Sam shouted, feeling the rage building up inside of him again as Dean's shaking grew in intensity beneath the palm of his hand which he had placed over his brother's chest to monitor his vitals.

"S-S'mmy?" Dean groaned, trying to lift his head again and failing miserably.

"Shh… It's gonna be alright, man."

"He's going to die if he doesn't get his shot. Lucky for you, I came prepared."

Sam's face paled as the crazed woman pulled a syringe out of her pocket and held it triumphantly in the air. His grip on Dean's jacket tightened reflexively as she started moving towards them.

"Stay back," Sam warned, wishing like hell he had his gun on him.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said he's going to _die_."

"You're bluffing."

"Am I? Are you really willing to risk your brother's life on that?"

"He's gonna be just fine without that crap."

Dean's back arched off the ground as fire raced through his body and a strangled cry tore its way out of his throat.

"Dean!" Sam tried to comfort his brother but was afraid of causing him more pain. He settled for lacing his fingers in Dean's short, sweaty hair since Dean's skull appeared to be one of the few uninjured places left on his brother's body.

"S-S'm…" Dean ground out through clenched teeth as tremors raced through his limbs like electricity. "P-please…"

Dean managed to make eye contact with Sam and the desperate plea and unbridled agony he could see in their depths broke the younger Winchester's heart into a million pieces. He never wanted to see that look in his brother's eyes again. Dean didn't deserve to suffer like this.

"You're gonna be okay, man. Stay with me."

Dean whimpered as his muscles contracted painfully of their own accord. Bile was rising up the back of his throat as his stomach rebelled. Reaching out, Dean latched onto Sam's wrist, using it to keep himself grounded as he tried to get his breathing under control.

"I've gotcha, Dean. Just hang in there, big brother. I'm not gonna let her hurt you anymore."

"Don't you see? He _needs_ me! He needs his _mother_!" Maggie started advancing again and Sam situated himself to block as much of Dean as he could from her.

"M-mom…?" Dean whispered breathlessly in confusion as he panted during a brief reprieve from the inner torture.

"I'm right here, Sweetie. Mommy's gonna make it all better."

Dean's glazed eyes turned to her and a little boy smile graced his face as his mind actually entertained the idea that this woman could take his pain away. He nodded, giving her his consent.

"Dean, no. Don't do this." Sam turned his brother's head towards him again. "It would only be a temporary fix and you know it'll be that much worse the next time around."

A short moment of clarity hit Dean as Sam's words sank in but then the pain ripped through his body again and the desperation took over once more. "N-need it, S'm… Help… Me."

"This isn't the answer, bro. We're gonna get you help, okay?"

"M-mom… Please."

"Move aside, boy, and let me tend to my child."

"He's _not _your son!" Sam barked angrily. "You're not gonna lay another finger on him, you hear me? Dean, come on. Snap out of it!"

Releasing Sam's wrist, Dean held his arm out towards Maggie, making his decision. If fake Sam wasn't going to help him, his mother would.

Maggie was only a few feet away now, preparing the syringe. Sam's mind went into overdrive. Could Dean really die if he didn't get those drugs? Would another dose help or hurt him?

Without knowing what the woman had been giving him, Sam had nothing to go on. They needed to analyze the fluid and find a way to help Dean through the withdrawal process, but they didn't have time for tests because Sam needed to make a decision _now_.

Dean was a complete disaster, mentally _and_ physically. If this medication of hers would help take the edge off, even if for just long enough to run the necessary tests, then maybe it'd be worth one last hit. Sam slowly sank back on his heels, keeping his eyes glued to the woman but permitting her enough room to give Dean what he needed.

"Just… Don't hurt him anymore," he stated softly in defeat, feeling his throat closing up from his own conflicting emotions.

"_You're_ the one hurting him now. I'm just trying to _help_ him." Maggie kneeled down and took Dean's forearm gently into her own hand and slid the jacket's sleeve up to his elbow. "Mommy's here, baby. Everything's going to be alright now."

Dean's heart slowly sped up beneath Sam's hand who rested his other hand on the side of Dean's tense neck, hoping it would give his brother _some_ comfort as the needle was lowered towards his arm.

A resounding _BANG!_ echoed through the woods once more, sending birds flocking into the air with indignant screeches. Blood burst from Maggie's abdomen and sprayed Dean in the face who jerked back in shock, nearly knocking Sam to the ground.

To Dean's horror, his mother was kneeling inches from him, blood dripping down her stomach onto her beautiful white dress as she reached out to him, begging for help.

Dean's eyes widened as he flashed back to when he was four, picturing Mary on the ceiling, flames licking at her soft skin. He could even hear her final scream which replayed over and over again in his head, even till this very day.

"NO!" he screamed, a different kind of agony fueling his words now, the pain in his body overshadowed.

Sam's automatic reaction was to draw Dean closer to himself and away from Maggie but his brother was struggling furiously against him, trying to get closer to her.

A familiar sadness filled Maggie's eyes as she smiled lovingly down at Dean for a moment, then she fell to the ground and after a few choked breaths, she was gone.

Tears were streaming down Dean's face again, but he didn't seem to notice. His wide eyes were fixated on Maggie and the pain in his heart almost made it impossible to breathe.

Bobby was hustling across the yard towards them, gun in hand. Even Sam was frozen in place, unable to believe what had just happened.

"You boys alright?" Bobby huffed out as he reached their position.

Sam just shook his head and pulled his brother that much closer. Dean wasn't struggling anymore. In fact, he seemed to be in a total state of shock, Maggie's blood coating the majority of his face and congealing in his hair.

"You killed her…" he whispered, barely loud enough for Sam to hear. There wasn't relief in his voice like Sam had been expecting. There was raw emotion that Sam had only heard come out of his brother at night when Dean suffered from nightmares shortly after John had passed. There was so much emotional trauma that, had Dean been in his right mind, he never would have let slip in a million years. _Oh god, Dean… I'm so sorry._

Bobby reached down and picked up the unused syringe that had fallen inches from Maggie's body. "What the hell is _this_?"

"I dunno, but we better find out soon. I don't know how much more he can take," Sam responded, switching to automatic pilot so he could get his brother somewhere safe. Priorities.

Kneeling down where Maggie had been moments before, Bobby patted the side of Dean's face, smearing the blood and leaving a handprint on his cheek. "Look at me, Dean."

Dean didn't even acknowledge his presence. He just stared wide-eyed at Maggie's body. The adrenaline was helping to keep the pain at bay, but it wouldn't last for long and Bobby knew it. Now was the time to move out.

"Come on, Sam. We gotta get him back to Ellen's."

"Ellen's? But, Bobby… He needs a hospital!"

"We can handle this, son. With the state he's in, you can bet your ass they're gonna call the cops, and we can't let that happen. You of all people should know that."

Bobby tensed as a movement near the house caught his eye. Turning, he saw Billy slowly making his way towards them looking a little worse for wear but he was on his feet which had to be a good sign. The bad sign was the fact that he was covered in blood spatters.

"Where's Cliff?" Sam questioned once Billy was within earshot.

"He's not gonna hurt anyone ever again," came the simple reply which confirmed the biker's fate for all who were present. Billy looked down at his dead mother but his stony face didn't reveal any emotion. "We've gotta get outta here. Someone must have heard the gunshots and called the police."

"You comin' with us?" Bobby asked the boy, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

"Nah. You guys go ahead. I've gotta check in on someone, then I'm gettin' as far away from here as I can. Take care of yourselves."

"You too, kid. Hey, any idea what's in this?" He held up the syringe for Billy to see.

His eyes widened, then an involuntary shudder shook the boy's thin frame as recognition crossed his face. He glanced down at Dean in sympathy.

"I never knew the name of it, but I can tell you the more shots he's had, the worse it's gonna be for him to kick it. I don't remember much from my own detox session, but he's gonna need your support to get through it. I sure as hell couldn't've done it alone. I gotta go."

"Hey, Billy? Sorry about everythin' that happened here…" Sam wished there was something more he could say.

Billy glanced back at the home that had been the source of every nightmare he had ever had for as far back as he could remember. "I'm not." With a brief nod of his head, Billy turned and walked away.

Bobby refocused his attention on his own boys. He gently lifted Dean's outstretched arm and inspected the handful of needle marks running along the inside of his elbow.

Gently taking his other arm, he moved to push that sleeve up as well to see if there were any more but Dean yelped when his shoulder was jostled. Bobby sighed, trying his best to stabilize the limb.

"Looks like she's been keepin' him pretty doped up. I can tell you one thing, this ain't gonna be a fun night for _any_ of us. I'm gonna bring my truck around. Call Ellen and tell her we've got 'im and we'll be headin' back soon."

Bobby waited for Sam to respond but the younger Winchester seemed to be in as much shock as the elder one was. He was staring down at Dean as though trying to convince himself that he was really there and that he wasn't a mirage. "Sam!"

Sam jumped and refocused his attention of the family friend.

"Call Ellen, got it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Good. I'll be right back. Don't try to move him on your own."

Sam nodded, pulling himself together, then pulled out his cell and made the call.

Bobby returned moments later, driving as close to the boys as he could so they wouldn't have to transfer Dean far. Sam managed to get back on his feet with a little help from Bobby, and together they situated Dean in the bed of the truck.

Sam hoisted himself up next to him to support his brother through the rough ride ahead.

About twenty minutes later, they were pulling into the back parking lot of Harvelle's Roadhouse. Their friends came out to meet them and Jo held the doors open as Bobby and Ash carried a barely conscious Dean inside and Ellen helped support Sam as he limped his way after them.

Ellen eased Sam down onto a chair in the bedroom, then turned her attention to the elder Winchester.

"My god, Bobby… He looks like Hell," Ellen said quietly as the men carefully laid Dean down on the bed she had made up for him earlier that day.

"So far as I understand it, he's about to get a helluva lot worse. Best make yourselves comfortable."

TBC

We finally made it to the comfort part of the story! Time to get Dean patched up and taken care of. Please review, and I'll try to post again soon!


	21. I've Got You

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

"Get his jacket off, Sam. I need to know what I'm dealin' with," Ellen directed as she bustled about the room gathering first aid supplies.

Sam moved forward instantly as did Jo who was eager to help. Not wanting to overcrowd Dean and complicate the situation needlessly, Bobby retreated to the far wall where he could keep an eye on things without getting in the way.

Sliding behind his brother on the bed, Sam gently propped Dean up against his chest, making it easier for Jo to ease the jacket off of Dean's arms. She gasped as his injuries were slowly revealed.

Dean was coated in blood splatters, but luckily, it didn't all seem to be from him. Deep purple bruising covered the majority of his body including his left side which was clearly concealing broken ribs, his right shoulder which more than likely had been dislocated recently, his left wrist which seemed to still be dislocated or possibly broken, his throat was a mottled mess of reds, greens, and yellows as the less severe bruising had already begun the healing process, and the side of his jaw had definitely taken a hit or two.

As if that weren't enough, a jagged cut in his left bicep appeared to be a bullet graze and when Jo's hand "accidentally" made contact with Dean's skin, she could feel the intense heat coming off of him from a raging fever. All these injuries, and she hadn't even seen his back or legs yet. "Oh God…" she whispered, wishing she had gone with Sam to give Dean's captors a piece of her mind.

Dean was shaking with a growing intensity and he was drifting in and out of lucidness. Now that the drugs had fully left his system, the pain had taken over and all he wanted to do was pass the hell out or get another dose of the magic medicine.

But the unrelenting hands that were jostling his body were keeping him from returning to the blissful darkness and the injustice of it all made him want to break down and sob his heart out. That's not the Winchester way though.

What little warmth he had gained from the jacket was taken from him as he was manhandled out of it. A hundred colorful insults flooded Dean's mind and he longed to barrage his assailants with them but the best he could manage was a muffled protest. Nevertheless, it seemed to achieve his desired goal.

The jostling stopped immediately and he wanted to sigh in relief. Dean cracked his eyes open and the blurry outline of a blonde woman sitting before him made his heart sink.

He thought he was safe. He thought he had been rescued, but it must have all been a delusion from the drugs because as far as he could tell, Maggie had him right where she wanted him and he no longer had the strength to stop her.

The blonde leaned towards him, reaching out for his face and he recoiled, gasping in pain as the agony flared through his body once more.

"Dean?" a soft male voice called. It seemed distant, and yet… a warm breath ghosted over his right ear.

_Oh god… This is a three-some I want no part of…_

Dean realized there was a pair of strong arms wrapped around his upper torso and he was leaning against a broad chest. _Uh uh. This ain't gonna happen, freaks._

"Dean, can you hear me?" the voice spoke up again but now Dean could _tell_ it was coming from the man behind him. He just had to keep clawing his way back towards full consciousness.

Another blurry form appeared on the left side of the bed. His heavy eyelids were lifted individually and a blinding light flashed by them. He tried to lift his left arm to brush the intrusive hand away but his forearm was quickly encircled and he didn't have the strength to break the grip.

"He's comin' around, Sam," the voice stated and it sounded vaguely familiar. Why couldn't he place it? Was it Sarina?

"He needs pain relievers, Ellen. Can we give him anything?"

A finger ghosted over the inside of Dean's elbow and his breath caught in his chest. Maybe he was going to get his medicine after all…

"I don't think we can risk it. They were clearly keepin' him doped up on somethin', and until Ash analyzes that sample you brought back, Dean's gonna have to do this cold turkey."

The new arrival's hand patted his cheek lightly and Dean groaned, trying to turn away from it.

"Dean, Sweetie? Come on now. Time to open those pretty green eyes of yours."

Sam shifted Dean slightly in his arms so he could see the side of his face. He knew it was selfish, but he wanted his big brother to wake up. Admittedly though, he also knew it would be best for Dean to just pass out until the withdrawal was over. But luck had never been that good to Dean.

As fire raced through his veins once again, Dean gasped and started to writhe on the bed, desperate to escape the agony.

"Bobby, can you grab some ice from behind the bar?" Ellen requested and Bobby immediately left the room, grateful to have something to do.

"Easy, kiddo…" Ellen soothed, running her fingers through Dean's hair while waiting the cramp out. Once he started to slump, gasping in ragged breaths again, she got right back to business.

Cold hands were poking and prodding at Dean's body now and he squirmed, unappreciatively.

"Try to keep him still, Sam," Ellen requested as she continued her search for any internal damage.

Sam nodded, trying his best to stabilize his brother without putting too much pressure on his injuries. Ellen had already found at least two broken ribs, but luckily there didn't seem to be any other extensive internal injuries like bleeding or punctured organs. Switching focus, she began prodding around Dean's swollen shoulder.

Not one to be left out, Jo busied herself with wetting a washcloth and started to carefully clear the blood off of Dean's face, neck, and chest. Dean blinked weakly up at her, looking lost and scared.

She smiled softly, hoping to comfort him. "Hey, you."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. Now that the woman was starting to come into focus, she looked more like Jo than Maggie or Mary. "W-wha…?" he forced out passed bruised vocal cords. He needed some answers, damnit.

"You're safe now, Dean. You're at the Roadhouse. It's over."

Dean swallowed hard, not sure if he could allow himself to believe it. If this was another drug-induced vision and that last bit of hope was ever taken from him again, he didn't think he'd be able to survive it.

Jo gently dabbed the cloth over his forehead to wash away the sweat that was beading there. Whether it was from the pain or the fear, she didn't know.

"H-how?"

"Bobby and Sam found you. Edgar and his wife… They're dead, Dean. They won't ever hurt you again."

Dean's heart sank at the mere mention of Sam's name. He had blocked his death out for a while, but now it was all rushing back at him. Try as he might, he couldn't stifle the soft sob that burst from his wounded soul.

The arms that encircled his chest tightened ever so slightly and Dean's good hand rose immediately to clamp around the mysterious wrist. He tried to struggle against the constricting limbs, but he was too weak to put up much of a fight.

"Hey hey hey… Take it easy, man. I've got you."

Dean stilled instantly. That voice… _That_ one he knew without a doubt. The one that had always demanded answers to questions that he couldn't give, the one that requested Lucky Charms when their food source was wearing thin, the one he could never deny at the best or the worst of times… The one he would die for without a second thought.

That familiar voice, those strong arms, that undeniably comforting smell of mint, soap, and… Sam.

Craning his neck to an uncomfortable angle, Dean glanced up at the face of the man who was cradling him like he was a prized possession. He glanced up into the face of the brother he was sure he had lost.

"Sam?" he whimpered out as all other pain and horrible memories bled away. Maybe they were _both _dead, but Dean couldn't care less if he was. They were together again and that's how it was supposed to be, whether it was in this realm or the next. "B-but… You're dead…?"

Sam sighed. "Look, I don't know what you think you saw, Dean, but it wasn't me. It was probably the drugs they were pumpin' into you, but I'm right here, man. Alive and well."

Sam could tell by the untrusting look in his brother's eyes that Dean was afraid to believe it. He reached across and placed his hand over the one Dean had encircled his other wrist with, grasping Dean's hand tightly. "You feel that, Dean? I'm real. I'm real, and I've got you."

Dean choked out another word that may have been Sam's name again, or it may have been something else. It didn't matter anymore because words couldn't express the rush of relief that flowed through Dean as the constricting dam around his heart burst free.

"Welcome back, big brother," Sam smiled sadly at him, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Ignoring the agony that flared through his shoulder and ribs, Dean twisted in Sam's arms and enveloped him in the tightest hug he could manage. Bravado forgotten, Dean finally allowed himself to break down and he sobbed against his brother's shoulder for the piece of his soul he had thought was lost forever. All it took was seeing Sam's smile to make him whole once more.

For some reason, he had been given another chance, and he was never going to take that granted. He was never going to let Sam out of his sight again, and he was never going to fail him again either.

Ellen silently grasped Jo's wrist and together they rose from the bed and made their way to the other side of the room where Bobby stood, a bowl of ice clenched in his grasp, and they watched the touching scene unfold, unwilling to break the magic of the moment.

"I've got you, Dean," Sam whispered as he slowly rocked his broken brother in his arms. "I've got you."

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the huge delay everyone, but a friend of mine has been missing in Colorado for over two weeks now so my mind has been a bit distracted lately!

I know it's a long shot, but if anyone out there has any information on George Aldrich (28), please contact the Aspen police at 970-315-2103 or even send me an anonymous message. Every little clue helps, so please come forward and help us put the puzzle pieces together!

We just want to get him home safely so he can spend Christmas with his family! Thank you all for your time and you can read updates on George by joining the Facebook page Find George Aldrich.

Happy holidays, and I'll try to get another post up by Christmas.


	22. Author's Note

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support and well-wishes for George, but I'm afraid my post was too little, too late. I regret to inform you all that the search has come to a tragic end and George's body was found late last night. No word on what exactly happened yet, but I thought it was only fair to update you all who are sending prayers his way. It was certainly a terrible blow for all those who knew him, but at least his family can get some closure now. Please continue to pray for his family and I'm so sorry for being the bearer of bad news so close to the holidays. Much love to all you loyal readers and I appreciate your kind words and continued encouragement for the story. I promise I will continue it as soon as I can. Thank you all, and happy holidays. May George rest in peace. He will always be loved, and never forgotten.


	23. A Good Day to Pray

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

As another painful spasm ripped through Dean, he clenched his fists in the back of Sam's shirt, drawing his brother even tighter against his own chest. "Ah! Sam!"

If he had had the presence of mind, he would have been appalled at the way his brother's name came out as a desperate plea. But as it was, he was just begging for Sam to make the pain go away and he didn't care if everyone in the room knew it.

Sam felt the muscles in Dean's bare back coil beneath his palms and he winced in sympathy, gently running one hand up and down his spine wishing there was something more he could do to help. "Shh… I know it hurts, man. But you've gotta hang in there, alright? It'll pass…"

Turning his attention to the others waiting patiently by the door for his signal, Sam gave a slight nod and they collectively moved forward to help once more.

Bobby placed the ice bucket by the side of the bed, Jo picked up the cloth she had been using and wet it again, and Ellen reached out and gently took hold of Dean's biceps to help guide him off of Sam so they could lay the elder Winchester back down on the mattress where they could properly tend to him.

Dean jerked out of Ellen's grasp and buried his face in Sam's neck, refusing to let go of the one person who could keep him grounded when his mind wanted nothing more than to wander.

"Okay, okay…" Sam placated, holding a hand out to keep Ellen at bay. "I'm not goin' anywhere, Dean, but you need to let us check you over. Can you do that for me?"

Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a choice. Pain tore through Dean's stomach and he had to turn sideways in order to curl in on himself, finally letting go of his brother in favor of hugging his abdomen. The second he released Sam, the younger brother slid off the bed and knelt down next to it in order to be level with Dean.

Using one hand on the mattress to keep himself balanced, Sam put his other hand on the back of Dean's neck, massaging it carefully. "Hey, can you hear me, Dean?"

When Dean's only response was a groan, Sam turned pleading eyes to Ellen. "There's gotta be somethin' we can do…"

"Wh-whiskey?" Dean gasped out, resting his aching forehead against the blankets as he tried to steady his breathing once more. Ellen shook her head.

"Sweetheart, if there's one thing you shouldn't mix with drugs, it's alcohol. We need to get your fever under control though. Can you lie down on your back?"

When Dean had turned into his brother's arms, Ellen had seen his back for the first time and her blood boiled as his injuries painted a picture of the cruelties the poor boy had suffered.

But while the skin still looked tender, the minor cuts seemed to already be on the mend. Still, if putting his weight on his back caused more harm than good, they would just have to find him a more comfortable position.

"Y-yeah…" Dean slumped sideways in exhaustion and defeat, knowing no pain relief was headed his way anytime soon. He would just have to tough it out as always. _That _was the Winchester way.

Together, Sam and Ellen helped situate a now pliant Dean on his back and slid a pillow under his head. Ellen patted his arm gently; a mother comforting her ailing son.

"You hang in there, ya hear?" she said softly. "We just got you back, so don't you even _think_ about leavin' us again. Bobby?"

Bobby had been forming make-shift ice packs with some bar rags, ice, and elastics on the bedside table. When Ellen called to him, he immediately started passing the small bundles over.

Ellen slid one beneath his neck, one under each arm, and one across his lower abdomen, just above his low riding jeans. Dean's brow immediately furrowed.

"'s too c-cold… Burns." When he lifted his good arm to brush away the pack on his abdomen, Ellen latched onto his wrist.

"You leave it be, Dean Winchester," she ordered, placing his hand back down on the mattress.

Jo made her way to the side of the bed that Sam wasn't occupying and began cooling Dean down with the wet towel again. She gently turned his head towards her, dabbing at the far side of his face, then down his neck, clearing away the remnants of tear tracks.

His eyes latched onto hers and she forced a comforting smile again.

"Jo?" he rasped.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"'m tired…" Dean blinked heavily at her once or twice, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open.

"I know. Rest if you can. It's okay." She rinsed the rag in cold water before cooling down his muscular chest. He shivered but didn't have the strength to try and stop her.

Placing a hand on his sweaty forehead, she monitored his fever and watched as his eyes finally closed, and aside from the bruising along his jaw and throat, his boyish features made him look ten years younger; a little boy being tucked in for bed.

Brushing strands of hair back from his pale face, she bit the side of her lip, wishing the situation were much different. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel attracted to the man lying before her.

Once most of the blood was cleared from his heated skin, she dabbed gently at the painful looking bruising over his broken ribs, hoping the cold would help to ease the deep ache. Dean's brow furrowed, but his eyes stayed closed.

Sam watched as Dean seemed to melt under Jo's careful hands. It was rare to see the boyish side of his big brother because Dean kept that side of himself under lock and key when Sam was around.

He probably figured it made him look weak or something, but what Sam wouldn't give to allow his brother to be a kid again and regain some of his childhood innocence. He actually envied Jo. No way in hell would Dean _ever_ let Sam mother him like that.

"Sam?" Ellen called softly, trying not to startle Dean. Tearing his eyes away from his brother's somewhat relaxed face, Sam turned questioningly to the older Harvelle. She nodded towards Dean's left arm, redirecting his attention. "His wrist. I think we're gonna have to reset it."

Sam was protesting before she even finished her sentence. "Oh come on, Ellen, can't we just…?"

"The longer it stays like that, the worse it's gonna be when we fix it."

Sam sighed, recognizing the argument as the one he had used on Dean when it came to resetting his shoulder not all that long ago. "Yeah, I know… But he's finally gettin' some rest. Do we have to do this _now_?"

She looked back up at him, the field medic in her taking over. "You know we do."

Sam rubbed at his own tired eyes. "Damn it. Alright. I'll brace him, you reset it?"

Ellen nodded and Jo looked between the two of them with fear in her eyes. "You can't be serious!" she hissed.

"Help Sam, Jo," Ellen instructed, then she gently took Dean's disfigured wrist into her hands. "On three," she commanded when the others were in place. "One, two… Three!"

Sam used his own weight to pin Dean's shoulders down and Jo kept one hand on Dean's forehead and the other on his free arm as Ellen broke his left wrist once more in order to realign the bones properly. Dean cried out in agony, back arching off the bed and all thoughts of sleep fleeing from his mind.

He tried to pull away from the hands that were restraining him, wide eyes darting about the room as he tried to find an explanation for this new agonizing pain.

"Don't struggle, Dean. It's okay, it's okay…" Sam tried but Dean clearly wasn't listening anymore. Ellen struggled to stabilize Dean's wrist as the boy tried desperately to break free. She still needed to splint and wrap it to keep the bones in place.

"Ah, to Hell with it… 'xcuse me, darlin'…" Bobby grumbled, sliding Jo out of his way before punching Dean hard in the jaw. Dean slumped back against the pillow, knocked out cold.

"Bobby? What in the…?" Sam yelled in outrage as he cupped the side of Dean's face gently, inspecting the new red mark that would clearly become yet another bruise marring his brother's skin.

"It's for his own good," was Bobby's simple response accompanied by a shrug, and to be honest, Sam couldn't argue with that. "He won't be out for long though so I suggest you do what you gotta do before he comes 'round."

With a disapproving glare in Bobby's direction, Ellen set to bracing and wrapping Dean's- now limp- wrist. Checking his right shoulder again, she was relieved to find that it hadn't been dislocated a second time and as long as he didn't strain it, there wouldn't be any permanent damage.

The hard part would be keeping the bull-headed Winchester in a sling long enough for the muscles to heal. But if worst came to worst, she could always threaten him with Bobby's method of inducing "rest."

"Got another ice pack over there, Bobby?" Ellen requested and he handed one over. She laid it gently on Dean's bruised shoulder, hoping it would help bring the swelling down a bit.

Lastly, she turned her attention to the bullet graze in his bicep and was relieved to find it miraculously hadn't gotten infected. She cleaned the wound and used some butterfly bandages to close it.

"So _now_ what?" Jo questioned, looking to her mother for the answer.

"Now? We wait. We can take shifts keepin' an eye on him throughout the night. Who knows when the withdrawal symptoms will end…"

"I'll take first shift," Jo offered quickly, blushing slightly at Sam's raised eyebrow. "You look exhausted, Sam. I'm sure you haven't slept since your brother disappeared, and Bobby, I know you must've driven straight through the night to get here and you've been searchin' ever since, so why don't you guys use the room next door and get some sleep?"

"I'm fine, Jo. I can just…" Sam began.

"I'll wake you if anythin' changes, okay? We'll be fine in here. Go."

He rubbed at his stiff neck, trying to decide. A soft, warm bed did sound really good right about now… "Alright. But if he needs me, I'm…"

"Only a few feet away. I know."

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Jo." As he slowly walked past Bobby, he laid a hand on the man's shoulder.

Bobby removed his baseball cap, wiped at his sweaty brow, then replaced it before turning away from Dean to follow Sam out. He felt guilty as hell for causing the kid more pain, but Lord knows the boy needed some rest. "G'night then," he mumbled to the women as he shuffled towards the next room.

"Night, Bobby," Ellen responded.

"It's closin' time, Mom," Jo stated, keeping her voice down. "Why don't you kick out the stragglers and go lock up? You could use a little rest yourself."

"'spose I should. Come and get me for the second shift, alright? Let the guys get as much sleep as they can before mornin'."

"Will do. Night."

"Night, Baby. Keep a close eye on him."

"Of course. Don't worry, we'll be fine in here."

"I have no doubt." Ellen winked, then walked out of the room and closed the door behind herself, leaving Jo to keep vigil over the bruised and broken boy that had become part of their family the first day he entered their roadhouse.

Though she wasn't sure if she really believed in a God or not, she vowed to send up a silent prayer for Dean, just in case.

TBC

I promised I would post again before Christmas, so here it is! Happy holidays everyone, and thank you all so much for your prayers and sympathies regarding George. He's in a better place now.


	24. All He Needs is Sam

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

True to her word, Jo kept a silent vigil over the elder Winchester as the hours dragged by. Occasionally, Dean would attempt to roll over in his pain-induced sleep and a groan would slip past his guard but Jo was right there to comfort him until he stilled once more.

Every half hour she replaced the ice packs on his body, gauged his temperature, and ran a cool cloth over his heated skin to help sooth the pain and the fever away.

Two hours after the others had gone to bed, Ash stuck his head into the room.

"How's he doin'?" he asked softly.

"Asleep. Again. What'd you find out?"

"Those wannabe docs had him on one helluva cocktail. I mean, _damn…_ He's lucky he ain't six feet under. There's no tellin' how his body's gonna react to all that shit at once."

"Is he going to survive the detox if he does it cold turkey?"

"Probably, but he'll be wishin' he hadn't."

"I was afraid you were gonna say that."

"Look, Jo… This is _Dean Winchester_ we're talkin' about here. If _anyone_ can make it through Hell, it's him. I mean, have you _met _John?"

"I hope you're right."

Jo sighed, glancing down at Dean who was resting uneasily. His head was rolling from side to side and pain lines were written all over his face in the form of a grimace. "You never do _anythin'_ half-assed, do you?" she whispered, dabbing at the drops of moisture on his brow again.

"I say just give the guy a few shots of whiskey and he won't feel a damn thing come mornin'," suggested Ash, speaking from personal experience.

"I wish that were an option," Jo chuckled softly. "Go get some rest, Ash. You earned it."

"Right on. Want me to get Ellen for ya so you can get some shut-eye too?"

"Nah, I'm good for a while longer. Thanks though."

"Sure thing. Peace out, Cub Scout."

"Night, Ash."

Jo rubbed wearily at her face once Ash had shut the door behind himself. It had been a long night already, but she wasn't ready to call it quits just yet. She didn't feel right leaving him until she knew he was out of the woods.

The silence of the room was suddenly broken as Dean's unusually deep and gruff voice captured her attention and she lowered her hands to find glazed green eyes staring back at her.

"What was that?" she asked, hoping she had misheard.

"She… was pregn'nt," he mumbled out, seemingly oblivious to what he was saying. "My kid. Was gonna be… a dad…"

"Who, Dean? What are you talkin' about?"

"M' mom. Maybe… 'nother li'l brother."

"You're not makin' any sense." Reaching out, she felt his forehead for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night and wasn't sure if she should be relieved or more worried that his fever was higher than the last time she checked. "You're not well, Dean. Try to go back to sleep."

"Can't. He'll fin' me," he whispered as though expecting someone to be listening just outside of the door. The fear in his tone was evident.

"He? Who's he?"

"Saw 'im. 's mad at me…"

"You mean Sam?"

Dean shook his head no.

"Are you talkin' about Edgar? He's dead, Dean. You're safe here."

"Never safe. Gotta… keep movin'…" He lifted his head a few inches with the intent of sitting up but Jo stopped him with a heavy hand on his good shoulder.

"You're not goin' anywhere. You need to sleep, okay? I won't let anythin' happen to you. I swear."

"No time. Gotta move out. Orders…" Dean tried to edge out from under Jo's hand but she used her own strength against what was left of his and easily won the battle. He dropped his head back to the pillow in frustration.

"Your orders are to _rest_, soldier. You're no good to anyone half alive and doped to the gills."

He reached up with his wrapped wrist, clearly attempting to knock her restraining arm off of him but she easily pinned the flailing limb to his chest, being careful not to put any pressure against his broken ribs.

Unwilling to give in that easily, Dean attempted to move his other arm and realized his mistake a bit too late as his shoulder screamed at him. "Ah!"

"Stop it, Dean! Just lie still!" Jo demanded, hoping he might listen to an order better than a request.

His wide-eyed gaze fixed on her, but it was no longer Jo he was seeing. Dean had the presence of mind to know he couldn't trust his senses anymore. There were plenty of supernatural entities that could mess with your head and this certainly wasn't his first time experiencing that predicament, but it never got any easier.

Nothing is more terrifying than losing the ability to distinguish reality from hallucinations. It's like being trapped in a nightmare. One of the many reasons the elder Winchester was sleep deprived…

As the woman before him morphed into Sarina and then into Maggie, he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the drug would just run its course already and leave him the hell alone.

"Dean? You still with me?" Jo leaned forward, not relaxing her grip in the slightest.

"Please, let me go…" he whispered. He couldn't stand being pinned down at this point. He needed space, and it felt like Jo's hands were wrapping around his arms like vines, tightening and confining as they crept along his skin.

And speaking of skin… whatever was skittering around beneath it had to die a violent death right freakin' now. It felt like insects were imbedded throughout his entire body, invoking unpleasant thoughts of the movie _The Mummy_. It _used_ to be one of his favorites. Emphasis on _used to_…

"Make them stop…" he whined, banging his head backwards into his pillow as though trying to squish the bugs that wouldn't allow him a moment of rest.

"There's nothin' there, Dean. It's all in your head, you hear me? You need to relax."

"Get off me…" he growled, genuinely struggling now against Jo's grasp. He was done feeling like a helpless victim. The harder he fought though, the more weight Jo used against him to keep him from hurting himself.

With a particularly violent jerk of his good arm, he managed to break Jo's grasp and immediately started scratching at his skin, digging deep enough to leave angry red welts. Some scratches even started to bleed.

"Dean, stop! What are you doing?" Jo practically shrieked, grabbing for his wrist again.

"The bugs! They're crawlin'… Gotta get 'em out…"

"It's not real! I swear to you, Dean! It's just a side effect of the drugs! Please, you have to stop! SAM!"

Dean's stomach clenched as another spasm jolted through his already torn muscles. Acid was creeping up the back of his throat, burning his esophagus. Knocking Jo's hands away once more, he desperately lunged for the edge of the bed, making it just in time before the dry heaves began.

"Oh, God… Dean!" Jo reached for the elder Winchester once more, doing her best to support him as his body attempted to expel his inner organs.

"Make it stop…" he pleaded in a whimper between painful bouts as his fingers scrabbled for purchase before latching on to the bedspread with a death grip. He didn't know how much longer he could take this. Tears were streaming down his face again but he was too exhausted to care.

Sam burst into the room, hair disheveled and half dressed as he had only taken the time to throw on his jeans before racing next door. "What happened?" he demanded, eyes locking on Jo for an explanation as to why she yelled.

"He's been mumblin' nonsense since he regained consciousness, he just started throwin' up, and his fever still hasn't broken. He was getting belligerent, but I think he's calmin' down now. Sorry I woke you."

"Don't be." Sam walked over to the bed, crouched down in front of Dean, and placed a hand on his brother's bare shoulder, feeling the heat the second he made contact. "How're you doin', bro?"

"Jus' shoot me, Sammy…" Dean panted, every inch of his body aching again. "Can't take it anymore."

"You're gonna be okay, Dean. You've gotta keep fightin' this."

"So tired."

"I know, man. You can't give up though. I gotta believe it's almost over by now. Try to get some more rest."

When Dean started to waver, a bit too close to the edge for anyone's comfort, Jo reached out and latched onto his hip to help stabilize him. She certainly hadn't expected him to yelp in pain and jerk out of her grasp.

"Whoa! Easy! What…?"

Sam stood instantly, managing to use his own body as a barricade seconds before Dean would have toppled onto the floor. He kept his hands in the air though, unsure of what had caused Dean pain and determined not to make it any worse.

Dean wrapped his good hand around his throbbing hip while attempting to curl into a protective ball against the most recent surge of pain.

"Wha's wrong, Dean?" Sam questioned as he gently grasped his brother's wrist. "Come on. Move your hand for a sec…"

He and Jo both leaned forward as Sam coaxed his brother's hand away from his overlooked injury. Deep black and blue bruising was just barely visible over the waistband of his jeans. Shooting a concerned look back up at Sam, Jo could tell they were both thinking the same thing; _What the hell did they do to you, Dean?_

Jo skimmed a finger gently over the damaged skin on his upper hip and felt him trembling beneath her hand. Dean feebly tried to pull out of his brother's grip but Sam held strong, placing his other hand against the side of Dean's head to steady and comfort him.

"Okay, it's okay…" Jo soothed quietly, backing off before she traumatized him any further. "Maybe you should handle this one, Sam," she stated softly. "I'll give you guys some privacy."

Sam nodded as Jo made her way to the door. Glancing back for a second, Jo bit her lip and watched as Sam ran his hand over Dean's skull soothingly, waiting for his brother to regain his composure before doing anything else. She admired the love and dedication these boys shared. If anyone could get Dean through this, it would be Sam.

TBC

Special thanks to Kay who recently brought to my attention how long I've been neglecting my poor readers! I'm soooo sorry everyone!

I've been working on other writing projects non-stop over the past few weeks so it's been hard getting back into the proper mind-set of this story. I've had a few different versions of this chapter written but I was never quite satisfied with them so I held off on posting.

I hope this version doesn't disappoint. Please keep those amazing reviews coming and now that we're nearing the end, I'll try to post more often!


	25. It Ain't Over Till it's Over

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

"Sam, don't. Please." Dean tensed the second he sensed his brother reaching for his bruised hip. "Just leave it."

Sam stopped immediately. "You _know_ I can't just ignore it, Dean. I just need to know what the damage is, okay?"

"Wanna be left alone."

"Dean…"

"'m losin' it, Sammy." Dean's jaw trembled till he clenched it tightly shut, trying to hang onto what was left of his masculinity. Maggie really _had _taken just about everything from him.

"You're still detoxin', man. It's all part of the drugs. You're gonna be back to normal just as soon as they wear off. I promise." Sam sat down on the edge of the mattress, barely fighting his _own_ exhaustion. "I know you're scared, Dean, but no one is gonna hurt you here, alright? Do you trust me?"

Dean blinked back the tears that were blurring his vision. "You _know_ I do."

"Good. Then believe me when I say you're safe now, and _you_ get to call the shots." Sam knew his brother was still suffering emotionally from his recent ordeal and the last thing he wanted to do was scar him further by forcing him into anything against his will. "But I need you to be sensible about this, okay? _I'm_ trustin' _you_ to make the right decision here. So how badly does your hip hurt? And be honest with me."

"I'd give it a five."

"Dean…"

"Fine. Eight-ish then."

"Alright. It's probably just badly bruised, but I won't know that for sure unless you let me look at it. What do you say?"

Dean sighed. "Okay," he practically whispered.

Sam smiled in gratitude. "Thank you. I'll make this as quick as possible." Feeling slightly awkward, he reached out towards his brother's jeans.

Dean quickly batted his hand away. "I've got it," he grumbled before unbuttoning and unzipping his fly. "Hurry up."

Nodding, Sam slid his waistline down until he found the other end of the bruise. The black and blue mark was roughly the size of a softball and followed along Dean's hip bone. As Sam began his prodding, he struck up a conversation to distract his brother from the pain and discomfort of the situation. "Wanna tell me how this happened?"

"Fell."

"What, down stairs?"

"Off the bed. Thought I saw Yellow Eyes. Freakin' drugs… Ow!"

"Sorry."

"Tried to run 'n forgot I was cuffed. Edgar's boot didn't exactly help any either."

"Shit, Dean… You want to talk about it?"

"No."

Knowing Dean would have to come to terms with everything at his own pace, Sam didn't push him. "Well, it's too late to try and stop the swellin', but we could put some ice on it to ease the pain a bit."

"Nah. 's alright. Ribs hurt worse."

_Oh, right… _"Want me to wrap them again?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Let's get you up then…" Sam eased his brother's jeans back up around his waist and then grasped Dean's good shoulder to help lever him into a sitting position. "Easy though…"

Dean groaned at the height change, swallowing convulsively to keep his stomach from revolting again. His throbbing back didn't exactly help matters either.

Once Dean was more or less vertical, Sam started weaving the bandage around his lower ribs, making sure it was tight enough to support the broken ones but loose enough for Dean to breathe comfortably. "How's that feel?"

"Not bad, Sammy." Dean flashed him a small smile that nevertheless comforted his little brother. Dean was still in there somewhere, and he hadn't given up yet.

"Anything else I should know about?" Sam tried, hoping his brother would continue being honest with him.

"Nothin' you don't already know."

"Okay… But, Dean… What about…?" Sam trailed off, unsure of how to approach the subject.

"What about _what_, Sammy?" The guarded tone in Dean's voice made it pretty obvious he knew _exactly_ to what his brother was referring.

"She said she was _pregnant_, Dean."

Dean closed his eyes, looking twice his age, and shook his head. "I don't remember, man. The drugs… They really screwed with my head. For all I know, she was makin' the whole thing up."

"Yeah. She probably was," Sam agreed, not wanting to trouble Dean about something they'd more than likely never know the truth about. "Speakin' of the drugs though, how are you feelin'?"

"I think they're startin' to finally wear off. I just feel exhausted. And _sore_."

"I'll bet. Try to get some more sleep while you can then. Sun's gonna be up in a few hours."

"Yeah… Hey, Sammy?"

"Huh?"

"Thanks, for… you know. Just, thanks."

"Of course. Close your eyes and relax. I'll be right here if you need anythin'." Sam pulled up the chair and sank down into it once he had helped Dean get comfortable again.

As time passed without incident, Sam managed to fall asleep as well. A few hours later though, he was jolted awake by the sound of his brother retching. "Dean!"

Dean was hanging over the side of the bed again, cradling his throbbing ribs with his busted wrist and using his good arm to keep himself off the floor, though it was shaking violently beneath his weight.

Sam scrambled to his feet, nearly falling at first due to the lack of circulation in his legs from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in, and lunged towards the bed to help his brother.

Dean gasped in air as the fire continued to race through his veins. He had thought this part was over. He had thought the drugs were finally out of his system. He had _thought_ he was going to get through this. He sure as _Hell_ didn't think it would keep attacking him in waves.

"Easy, Dean. Easy… Just breathe…" Sam soothed, doing his best to keep Dean balanced. "I've got ya…"

Painful spasms shot through Dean's body as he shivered, making every muscle, every organ, every _fiber _of his being scream out in pain. When the nausea finally passed, he slumped wearily into his brother's strong arms, resting his head on Sam's thigh.

"I can't do this anymore, Sam," he whimpered. "I'm gonna die, just like all those other kids…"

"No, Dean. No you won't. You know why?"

Dean shook his head, fighting back the urge to dissolve into tears again.

"Cause you've got somethin' those kids _didn't_ have. You've got _me_. I'm gonna get you through this, man. No matter what it takes."

"Need the drugs, Sammy… Please."

"We don't have any, Dean," Sam lied, positive that a part of his soul died in the process.

"You gotta make it stop."

"Shh… You're gonna be okay, man." Sam started to gently rock Dean in his arms again, hoping the older man might feel some comfort through the action.

"'s never gonna end…"

"Yes it will. It'll all be over soon. Just hang on." Checking his watch, Sam realized it was just after six in the morning. "Sun's gonna be up soon."

"Wanna go home, Sammy…" Dean grumbled, on the verge of either falling back asleep or passing out. He was beyond exhausted.

Sam put a hand against his brother's forehead and felt the heat instantly. Dean just couldn't catch a break these days.

A tired but concerned looking Ellen knocked softly on the door before stepping inside to check on her guests. "How're you boys doin', Sam? Did you get any sleep?"

"He's still burnin' up, Ellen. I dunno how to help him anymore. The drugs just don't want to quit," he admitted softly, hoping Dean was out of it enough to not hear.

Staring down at the huddled boys, both of whom looked desperate for help, Ellen stepped closer to the bed, moving slowly so as not to alarm the eldest. "Dean, Sweetie? Can you hear me?"

Dean's eyes cracked open and moved towards her, then continued right past. He shifted restlessly in Sam's arms as though he could feel the scrutiny and just didn't know where it was coming from. He seemed to be staring right through her.

Ellen cupped his cheek gently to halt his wandering eyes and turned his head in an attempt to get him to focus on her. "Come on, Honey. I know you're in there somewhere…"

When their eyes finally connected, he gave her the most pathetic, watery-eyed puppy dog look she had ever seen. He was wounded, scared, lost, confused, and begging for someone to make it all better. She smiled back, lovingly. "I hear you, Baby. Just hang in there a bit longer for me, alright?"

Dean nodded, practically pouting. That, combined with his disheveled hair and the way he was curled up in his brother's lap tugged at Ellen's motherly instincts again and she just had to smile. "We're gonna need some more ice."

"On it," came a gruff voice from the doorway. Glancing over her shoulder, Ellen nodded to Bobby who was always an early riser, especially when he was worried about something such as the Winchester boys. Wiping the tiredness from his eyes and readjusting his baseball cap, he headed off towards the bar to get ice for the second time that night.

Without warning, the cramps started back up with a vengeance and Dean's body seized, sending excruciating pain through his nervous system and muscles. If his mouth hadn't involuntarily been clenched shut, he probably would have been screaming bloody murder as his back arched to an absurd angle.

"Lay him down flat, Sam!" Ellen instructed. "Give him some room."

Sam quickly and carefully returned Dean to the mattress and backed away. He wanted to continue holding his brother until the pain had passed, but he knew restricting his movements in any way would just cause him more pain in the end.

Dean's eyes were wide open now and he looked terrified.

"I need you to focus on my voice, Dean…" Ellen stated confidently, needing to give the boy something else to focus on. "The cramps will pass, alright? Just hang in there a bit longer… I know you're scared, but don't fight it, understand? You need to try and relax. Just let it run its course…"

After what felt like hours but in reality was less than a minute, the seizure finally let up and Dean collapsed back onto the bed, eyes clenched shut and chest heaving.

"That's it… Good boy. Just breathe now…" Ellen soothed, taking up the washcloth and dabbing it over Dean's fevered skin in her daughter's absence. "You're gonna get through this, Sweetie."

Dean wanted to clench his fists in the blanket he was laying on but even the tips of his fingers were throbbing to the frantic beat of his heart. Every inch of him felt like it was on fire from the inside out. He was terrified to risk moving a single muscle for fear that it might set off another seizure.

Bobby came back and quickly put some ice packs together when he saw how quickly Dean's state had gone downhill. Sam and Ellen worked together to spread the packs over Dean's shaking body.

"How long is this gonna continue, Bobby?" Sam asked, not sure he really wanted an answer.

"When it comes to experimental drugs, Sam, your guess is as good as mine. Basically, it ain't over till it's over."

Sam sat back down at his brother's side, wishing there was more he could do to help ease his pain. Reaching out, he drew Dean's good hand into his own. After a brief hesitation, he felt Dean gently squeeze back before the elder Winchester's strength left him and he fell back into blissful darkness.

TBC

Thank you guys so much for your continued support and reviews! I wanted to get a second chapter up for you all to make up for lost time. Please keep those comments coming and I'll do my best to keep writing as well!


	26. Actions Speak Louder

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

When Dean finally managed to crack his eyes open again, two things become horribly apparent. The first was that Sam was slumped against the side of the mattress, their hands still intertwined. _Okay, awkward…_

And the second was that he hurt. _A lot_. His entire body was aching to the point of where he started to wonder if he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler at some point during the evening.

As he tried to think back, he could only remember bits and pieces of the night before and his instincts told him to not look _that _gift horse in the mouth. One thing was for sure though… He had to reclaim his hand before anyone came by to check on him.

Luckily, Ellen and Bobby weren't around to witness their massive chick flick moment. The smell of coffee and the distant sound of chatter told him that everyone else was congregated in the kitchen a few rooms over.

Trying his best not to wake his exhausted brother, Dean slowly slid his fingers out of Sam's loose grasp. Just when he thought he had succeeded in being stealthy, Sam sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

"Dean?" Sam mumbled, still half out of it.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean croaked through a dry and bruised throat. It felt like he had screamed himself hoarse, but he hoped like hell that wasn't the true cause. Talk about mortifying… He slapped a smile on his face to counter his pitiful attempt at speaking.

Sam went from disoriented and half asleep to wide awake and over-bearing in about half a second, throwing his big brother for a loop. "Dean! You're awake! Thank God, man… You scared the Hell outta me last night! Are you feelin' any better? Can I get you anything?"

"Water?" Dean croaked again before trying to clear his throat. _Out, damn frog!_

"Yeah, sure. Hang on…" Sam stood abruptly and headed towards the kitchen.

Lifting his head far enough to glance down the length of his body once Sam was gone, Dean noticed the ice packs Bobby had made were still placed strategically across his skin, though now they were reduced to uncomfortable wet rags.

Using his good hand, he dropped the towels onto the mattress by his hip. The underlying skin was still red and cold to the touch, so he had to assume the packs had been replaced not too long ago. _That's enough of __**that**__ crap._

Dean could hear his brother telling the others that he was awake and he groaned inwardly, realizing too late that Sam would be coming back with reinforcements. _Cue the flock of mother hens…_

Just as he had suspected, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo flooded into the room behind Sam who was carrying his requested glass of water. "Here ya go, dude."

Dean tried to save face and sit up by himself but when he faltered, Sam swooped in for the rescue.

With an arm across his shoulders, Sam propped his big brother up and then proceeded to hold the glass to his lips since Dean was clearly too unsteady to do it himself.

Dean felt a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. Everyone he cared about could see how pathetically weak he was and there was nothing he could do about it.

And of course everyone here knew he had been bested by a much older _human _couple. If that didn't win him first prize for the pitiful award, nothing would. He dropped his gaze, terrified that if he looked close enough, he would find disappointment in the others' faces.

Only as he stared dejectedly at his lap did he notice his current state of undress. Blushing even more profusely, he quickly fumbled with his fly and managed to get his jeans fastened regardless of his lack of coordination, though it took him longer than it normally would have.

Jo quickly looked away, her cheeks nearly as red as Dean's as she tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. Ellen and Bobby remained unmoved by the scene, clearly having been in similar situations enough times for the novelty to have worn off. Strangely enough, that thought didn't do much to comfort the elder Winchester.

Still feeling everyone's eyes boring into his skin, Dean tried to wrap his arms around his naked chest but the added pressure against his wrapped ribs made him wince and abandon the attempt. Couldn't everyone just give him some privacy?

Dean's newly adopted sense of modesty gave Sam the urge to laugh until the reasoning for his brother's sudden shyness hit him like a sucker punch, making the laughter die in his throat only to be replaced with an intense urge to throw up.

He could only imagine what those people did to his cocky and confident brother to leave him the shell that he was now.

Needing to do _something _to console his sibling, Sam quickly lifted the blanket Dean had been sleeping on and draped it around his bare shoulders. Dean pulled the corners tightly together in front of his chest, wishing he could just disappear inside the warm fabric. When Sam's presence lingered, Dean found himself being drawn towards that protective comfort and he casually leaned back into Sam's embrace.

At first, Sam was startled by his brother's unwavering trust in him and his obvious display of affection. But snapping out of his stupor, Sam assumed Dean was just doing it for the added warmth and gently started rubbing up and down his arms to create friction without causing pain.

Though Dean jumped at Sam's initial contact, it didn't take long for him to relax again and soon he was practically putty in his brother's lap, soaking up the warmth and safety Sammy happily offered.

"How're you feelin', kid?" Bobby asked, interrupting the awkward silence that had fallen in the room.

"Better," Dean responded honestly, his voice a little stronger than it was initially.

Reaching around Dean with a speed the older boy had no chance of anticipating, Sam laid the back of his hand against his brother's forehead and managed to gauge his temperature before Dean's brain caught up and he jerked away.

"Feels like your fever finally broke. Any hallucinations or nausea since you woke up?"

Dean shook his head, drawing the blanket even tighter around himself to quell the sudden chill that shook him to the core; an automatic reaction caused by the horrible memory of his previous drug-induced hallucinations.

"Good. That's good."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. Something was off with the way Sam said those words. It certainly wasn't in a tone the older brother was used to hearing directed towards him. Sam always reserved that tone for cases to get the answers they needed from victims without sounding insensitive…

That was it. Sam was treating him like a victim; Like Dean was going to shatter right in front of him at any minute. Things must have gotten pretty bad during the night for that tone to come out.

Dean tried to twist in Sam's arms so he could see his expression but a harsh throb from his ribcage told him to rethink his strategy. He settled on craning his neck to the best extent he could, managing to glimpse his brother's profile.

"Sammy, what happened after I fell asleep last night?"

Sam swallowed hard and took a moment before responding. "You didn't fall asleep, Dean. You passed out. We tried to get you to come 'round again, but you were trapped in some sort of seizure cycle. Your fever was too high…"

"We were startin' to wonder if you were gonna wake up at all," Bobby pitched in, looking uncomfortable for the first time since he entered the room.

Dean felt Sam's grip on him tighten slightly and his guilt shot up a few more notches. He may have been the one going through the hell, but everyone he cared most about suffered right alongside him. "Sorry," he mumbled, dropping his eyes to his lap again.

"Nothin' to be sorry for, sweetie. We're just glad to have you back," Ellen assured him. "It was pretty touch and go for a while there. We almost had Ash give you what was left of the sample he was runnin' tests on, just to lower the shock to your system."

"I thought there wasn't any left?" Dean asked, calling Sam out on his blatant lie, though there was no bite to his tone.

"It was a judgment call, Dean. Givin' you another dose might've eased the symptoms a bit, but it would have prolonged the withdrawal." Sam hung his head. "Maybe I should've…"

"No. You made the right call, dude. Seriously. Don't sweat it."

"But, Dean… I…"

"Considering how potent that shit was, Sam, I probably wouldn't have survived another dose. You did the right thing."

"Yeah, maybe." Sam didn't sound all that comforted, but at least he wasn't arguing the point.

"Either way, it doesn't matter now. It's over, Sammy. And I'm still here."

Sam's cheek rested lightly against the side of Dean's head, drawing comfort from his big brother's presence in return. After all, once Dean had his strength back, there was no chance he would let Sam get away with these touchy feely scenes anymore, so Sam was going to take what he could get _now_.

Feeling as though they were intruding on a private moment, Ellen gently nudged Jo and Bobby to get their attention. "We're glad you made it through, Dean. You should try to get some rest. We'll leave you to it."

Dean nodded wearily, feeling the exhaustion tugging at his consciousness though he struggled to keep it at bay. As much as he wanted to sleep, he was afraid he might dream, and the last thing he wanted to do was revisit the past again with the events still so fresh in his mind.

When the boys were left alone again, Sam felt it was finally time to address an issue he had been reserving for when his brother was safely on the mend. "Hey, Dean?"

_Ah crap, he's got that tone…_"Yeah?"

"Promise me no more suicide missions," Sam demanded softly next to his brother's ear. "No more takin' on biker gangs without backup."

"Dude, I wasn't tryin' to…"

"Just promise. Please."

"Only if you promise me no more hillbillies."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"So am I, Sammy."

"Fine. No hillbillies, no bikers. Fair enough?"

"We got ourselves a deal then." Dean smirked, starting to feel more like himself; at least in spirit. So long as he had Sammy, he could make it through this just like any other day. Granted, some days were worse than others.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

_Man…Just when I thought the chick flick moment was over…_

"Sure, Sam." Dean let his eyes fall closed, but that didn't stop his brother from rambling on.

"I'm sorry I pressured you back at the motel. It's just… I don't know what you're so afraid of, man. Why can't you just open up once in a while when somethin's botherin' you? Why do you turn to alcohol and fighting instead of me? You think I'd laugh at you or somethin'? Cause I was there too, Dean. I know what went down with Sarina and nothing about that was funny…"

"Not so sure about that, Sammy. I think I had a few good one-liners…"

"Dean, come on."

Dean sighed, glad that his back was facing his brother so he didn't have to deal with the damn puppy dog eyes. "I know you wouldn't laugh, okay? I just… I don't know how to talk about shit like that. Dad raised us to bury the past and move on. Suck it up. The self-help yoga crap has always been your thing, not mine."

"How many times have you talked me out of a dark place, huh? After Jessica's death, when I was havin' visions and didn't know how to deal with them… Hell, even back when we were kids in school. You always listened, and you always made things easier. I wish you'd let me return the favor once in a while."

"I don't know what you want me to say, dude. Yes, Sarina messed with my head pretty bad that day. Yes, I still have nightmares about her sometimes, and yeah, for a while there I thought it was happenin' again. No, I don't want to discuss the gory details. No, I don't think she's still alive anymore, and no, I don't think rehashin' the past with my little brother is gonna make it any easier to live with. Satisfied?"

"I'm guessin' I don't have much choice in the matter, do I?"

"Not particularly, no."

"I think I can deal with that. Why don't you try to get some more sleep before Ellen gets pissed at us both? I'll leave you in peace."

Sam started to slide out from behind Dean so his brother could lie back down but Dean latched onto his arm with a strength that surprised both of them.

"Don't… Don't leave, okay? It's just, I…" Dean faltered, embarrassed by the sudden fear that ignited in his soul when Sam intended on walking away. He was a grown man for crying out loud! He shouldn't need his little brother to…

"Okay. Okay, I'm not goin' anywhere. Promise." Sam settled back down, reclining against the headboard and allowing his brother to use his chest as a pillow.

Dean could hear his brother's heart beating a slow and comforting rhythm beneath his head and the fear began to drain away. He knew Sam would probably hold this over his head for the rest of his life, but at that moment, he just couldn't summon the energy to give a damn. It didn't take long for his exhaustion to take over from there, and he fell into a blissful slumber.

Sam smiled down at his sleeping brother, gently adjusting the blankets around him. Maybe Dean did trust him after all, even if he couldn't say it with words.

TBC

Please review! Only a few more chapters to go before I wrap this story up, so if there's anything else you want to see before the end, let me know! Thanks!


	27. When the Past Comes Back to Haunt

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

When Dean woke up again the next morning, he was finally feeling rested and semi-human again. Sam was already awake and Dean had a suspicion that his little brother had stayed up all night purposefully to watch over him.

Enough was enough. Dean had to draw the line somewhere. Before he could bitch at Sam though, his brother carefully slid out from behind him in order to avoid making the situation even more awkward, and then set about checking Dean's wounds just like he would after any other hunt.

"How's the wrist?" he asked as he prodded Dean's healing shoulder gently, making sure the swelling was decreasing rather than increasing.

"It's… Ah!"

"Sorry."

"It's better. Take it easy there, Nurse Ratched."

"Guess that makes you McMurphy."

Dean shrugged with his good shoulder. "I've been called worse."

The boys easily fell back into their normal banter as Sam continued his medical routine, checking to make sure Dean's fever was gone, that the bullet wound wasn't infected, that Dean's raw wrists were slowly starting to heal...

Then without thinking, he reached forward to pull the sheet down in order to check his brother's ribs, but Dean instinctively latched onto the covers with a death grip.

He stared up at Sam, wide-eyed and looking terrified all of a sudden. So much so, that Sam backed away and held his hands where Dean could see them, though he had the feeling Dean wasn't actually seeing him at _all_ anymore since his eyes seemed to have glazed over.

"Dean?" Sam tried softly, hoping to get through to his brother. "Hey…"

"Don't…" Dean practically whimpered, his knuckles turning white as he strangled the sheets in his fists.

"Dean, it's just me, man. Can you hear me? I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Not gonna let you…" Dean was shaking his head, clearly in denial as he pulled the sheets even higher.

"Calm down, Dean. It's okay."

"Get the hell away from me!" Dean suddenly shouted, making Sam jump and drawing the attention of Bobby who was just about to check in on the boys to see if they were awake and in need of breakfast.

"Sam? 's goin' on in here?" Bobby asked, stepping cautiously into the room. When he saw Dean on the defensive, he turned accusingly to the younger brother. "Aw, Hell. What'd you do to him _this_ time, kid?"

Not realizing the seriousness of what was happening, Bobby assumed Sam had offered Dean a hug or something else just as harmless to provoke his big brother's macho pride.

"I didn't do _anything_! I was just gonna check his ribs but I think he's suffering from PTSD. Must have triggered a flashback..."

"Post traumatic stress disorder?" Bobby frowned. He didn't like the way the words tasted in his mouth, but they sure sounded right in retrospect. The unadulterated panic in the boy's face made the older man wince. "Maybe we should leave him for a bit and hope he comes back to his senses, Sam."

The younger brother shook his head. "No, Bobby. I know Dean and the second we leave this room, he's gonna bolt. It's ingrained in him, and there's no chains stoppin' him here."

"So what're you suggestin'? That we tie him to the bed like those psychos did till he gets past it?"

"God, no!" Sam looked appalled that the thought would even cross Bobby's mind. "If we try to restrain him, we'll just make it worse. We gotta talk him out of it."

"Give it your best shot, Freud."

Sam took a small step forward, keeping his hands up and trying not to look threatening. "Dean? I need you to focus, man. You're at the Roadhouse, and you're safe, okay?"

Dean was starting to rock back and forth, drawing his knees up towards his chest for protection and to make himself as small a target as possible.

"I'm not who you think I am," Dean whispered, more to himself than anyone else in the room. "'m not him… 'm not him…"

"It's okay, Dean. Please, you need to calm down." Sam kept his voice as soothing as possible as he continued moving towards his brother.

Knowing that Sam was pressing his luck as he inched closer to the older Winchester, Bobby matched his approach, just in case. Sam shot him a look but didn't say anything or wave him off.

"Come on, bro. I know you can do this. You gotta find your way back. Listen to my voice. It's gonna be okay." Sam was right next to the bed when Dean stopped rocking and cocked his head to the side.

"Sammy…?" he breathed out in a soft whimper. If Sam had been any further away he probably would have missed it.

"Yeah, Dean. It's me." Thinking his brother was starting to come back around, Sam laid a hand gently over Dean's forearm, hoping the contact would help ground him.

BIG mistake.

The small touch set Dean off and he came up swinging, apparently believing that the couple had managed to catch Sam as well.

"Let 'im go, you son of a bitch!" Dean snarled as his fighting instincts kicked in.

If it hadn't been for Bobby's swift reflexes- who latched onto Dean's good wrist as it flew towards Sam's head- the younger boy would have been down for the count in a second. But now Dean was being restrained, and he sure as hell didn't like it.

"Bobby, no!" Sam shouted a bit too late as the man saved him from a concussion but in turn, sent Dean into full blown panic mode. They had no choice now but to subdue him or he'd injure himself further.

Dean's broken hand instantly rose to the challenge but Sam secured it against the mattress with his own weight, using only the amount of force strictly necessary.

Bobby was trying to keep Dean's other arm pinned against the elder Winchester's body so the boy didn't dislocate his shoulder again in the struggle.

"Stop it, Dean!" Bobby barked, hoping the order would sink in. "Relax!"

"You can't have him!" Dean shouted back, still defending his brother without realizing it was Sam he had almost clocked in the first place.

"I'm safe, Dean!" Sam shouted to be heard above his brother's constant stream of swearing. Dean could certainly be colorful at the best of times… "I'm right here! Look at me!"

Desperate enough for the last resort, Sam gripped Dean's chin firmly and turned his head so they were eye-to-eye. Dean was glaring at him with such hatred it made Sam's breath freeze in his chest.

"Dean, please… Come back to me, man."

The scornful glare was slowly morphing into confusion. Dean's eyebrows drew together like he was trying to solve a riddle that just didn't make any sense. He was breathing heavily and sweat was beading on his forehead, but his glazed eyes were starting to sharpen. And when they did, Dean visibly paled.

"Oh, God… Sammy?"

Sam closed his eyes for a moment as relief flooded through him, then he smiled sadly down at his tormented brother. "It's okay, Dean. We've got you." He slowly released Dean's chin who quickly looked to his other side, needing to know who was breathing down the back of his neck.

"B-Bobby?"

"The one and only. You alright, kid?" He let go of Dean's arm but made sure he didn't make any sudden movements that might spook him again.

"Did I just…?" Before he could finish the sentence, Dean lunged sideways and threw up, inches away from Sam's shoes who jumped back just in time.

"Whoa! Easy, Dean. Just breathe, dude."

Bobby winced sympathetically as the older boy heaved painfully, then started rubbing soothing circles on Dean's back, carefully avoiding the bandages and the damage he knew was hidden beneath them.

He and Sam both waited in silence for Dean to collect himself again. When he did, he was cradling his ribs and pain was etched all over his face. "What just… happened?" he panted, trying to get his brain to catch up.

Since Sam was at a loss for words, Bobby decided to give it a shot. "Well, you know when soldiers get back from the war and they just can't seem to let it go?"

"I've got… PTSD?" Dean was trying to deny it to himself before the words had even left his mouth.

"It happens," Bobby said in way of confirmation. "Even to hunters."

Dean groaned, resting his forehead against the mattress while he tried to master the pain that had flared through his body the second he moved.

"I'm gonna get you some pain meds," Sam offered, finally breaking out of his frozen trance and heading towards the door. Now that the drugs had cycled out of Dean's system, they could finally give him some well-deserved relief.

"No!" Dean gasped as his head flew back up so he could look at Sam, obviously horrified at the prospect. "No more drugs!"

"But, Dean, you're…"

"I don't care, Sam! I can handle the pain, alright? Just… Just give me a sec." With Bobby's help, Dean eased himself back towards the center of the bed and dropped his head back against the pillow, focusing on breathing through the agony that had erupted in his chest when he had thrown himself on his busted ribs. He cradled his side, counting in his head to distract himself as he waited for the burning sensation to fade.

Nodding in understanding, Sam slowly made his way back to his brother's side just in time to see him go from paper white to a sickly green. "You okay, man?"

Dean nodded back, breathing through his nose to prevent himself from hyperventilating. When he finally regained his control, he stared dejectedly at the ceiling. "Sorry, Sammy."

Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. "For _what_?"

"For freakin' out like that and almost knockin' you ten ways to Tuesday."

"Wasn't your fault, Dean. I should've checked with you before I… I just wasn't thinkin'." He motioned awkwardly towards Dean's bandaged chest now that it was visible since the sheet was pooled in his brother's lap. "Can I…?"

Dean swallowed, working to get his stomach back under control after that freak adrenaline rush and trying to calm his nerves at the same time. He nodded his consent, moving his own hand out of the way.

"Alright. Gonna need you to sit back up though so I can unwrap the bandages."

"…Right." With a deep sigh of resignation, Dean carefully levered himself into a sitting position. Bobby immediately put a steadying hand on his good shoulder to ground him in the here and now as Sam worked quickly to unravel the elastic fabric.

Dean grunted in pain as his ribs were freed and bit his bottom lip as Sam put light pressure on the deep bruising to make sure his brother hadn't done any further damage to the bones underneath.

Dean kept his eyes glued to his brother's hands, watching every move Sam made so he wouldn't get "lost" again.

While he was in a sitting position, Sam took advantage of the opportunity and slid around behind Dean to replace the bloody bandages on his back. To Dean, it felt like he was getting waxed as the sticky bandages were peeled from his wounds and Sam had to pause a few times to give his brother a respite from the pain.

As Sam worked, Bobby massaged the back of Dean's tense neck and babbled on about nothing to distract the boy as best he could. A few times he even managed to earn a chuckle from Dean, which of course resulted in him wincing as his diaphragm contracted around his broken ribs. Still, mission accomplished as far as Bobby was concerned.

After cleaning out a few of the red and puffy welts on Dean's back to prevent infection from setting in, Sam replaced the bandages and rewrapped his brother's ribs. Dean didn't object once until Sam held up the sling for his shoulder.

"No way in Hell, Sam."

"Why not?"

"Cause I need that arm!"

Sam huffed in annoyance. "For _what_ exactly, Dean?"

"You know… Stuff!"

"Not touchin' that line with a ten foot pole," Sam teased, earning a glare from his brother.

"Son, you ain't trainin' your dragon till you're up and about and your shoulder is completely healed," Bobby pitched in, making Dean turn bright red.

"Screw you both. That's not what I was talkin' about and you know it!"

Sam and Bobby laughed. Granted, it was at Dean's expense, but it felt like it had been weeks since they had had reason to laugh and they'd take whatever they could get.

"Tell you what, dude… Wear the sling for a week till some of that bruisin' goes away, and then if you wanna ditch it after that, I won't stop you so long as you take it easy for another week or two after that. Fair enough?"

"Whatever," Dean grumbled, clearly unhappy with the situation. He sulked as Sam eased his arm into the contraption and adjusted the shoulder strap for him.

"So… Can I get you a plateful of bacon and eggs?" Bobby asked cheerfully, knowing exactly what Dean's reaction was going to be.

Dean gagged, putting a fist against his mouth to calm his stomach again. "Ugh, I hate you…"

Bobby chuckled again, patting Dean's knee in a fatherly gesture. "Missed you too, kid. Missed you too."

TBC

Please review!


	28. Moving On

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

The rest of the day passed without further incident. By nightfall, Dean was feeling strong enough to venture out of his bed so he decided to join the others around the bar for some supper.

He managed to pull a button-up shirt around his shoulders, but with the sling on, he was only able to get one arm in a sleeve. He wasn't going to last for a week with that thing on. That much he knew.

Once he was semi-presentable, he made his way to the bar. The cheerful discussions that had been taking place halted immediately as everyone's eyes turned to him in surprise.

"Got room for one more?"

"You should be restin', sweetie," Ellen scolded good-naturedly. After all, she couldn't deny she was relieved to see him up and about already.

"I've spent enough time in beds lately."

When Dean's eyes began to cloud over again in reminiscence, Sam quickly changed the subject. "You're just in time, man. Bobby made some damn good burgers if you want one."

"Sounds good." The awkward tension in the room seemed to dissipate slightly as Dean sat down and Bobby pushed an extra plate towards him.

"Ash offered to make them, but considerin' his oregano wasn't really oregano, I figured I should take a crack at it instead."

"Smooth move. We don't need everyone trippin' out like me or things'll get really outta hand around here." Dean meant it as a joke but no one laughed. He cleared his throat, feeling the air thicken around him once more. "Too soon?" he asked with a tentative look at Bobby who frowned at him.

"Maybe just a bit."

Dean glanced around at everyone else and they all seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him. "Guys, you don't have to walk on eggshells around me, alright? I'm good now. On the mend."

"We just don't wanna trigger another… episode is all, Dean," Sam threw in. "Maybe it's best if we just stay clear of those topics for a while till you're back to yourself."

"I'm fine, okay? Whatever the hell happened earlier, it was probably just cause of the drugs. I don't have PTSD, Sam. I've been seein' weird shit ever since she stuck the first needle in me."

"Yeah well, that latest freak out wasn't caused by the drugs, man. That much we know. Ash ran a few more tests while you were out. You were fully detoxed when your fever finally broke and that was over twenty-four hours ago."

"That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was a lasting side effect that just hadn't worn off yet. With that amount of mixed chemicals in my blood stream, it wouldn't be all that surprising…"

"No, Dean. It doesn't work like that. When you were on the drugs, you were out of it the second they hit your system. What happened earlier wasn't just latent flashbacks; they were triggered by my movement. You weren't seeing hallucinations, you were remembering, weren't you."

"Just forget I brought it up, alright? The point is I'm better now." Dean played with his burger, looking for any kind of distraction he could find.

"This ain't somethin' you just get over, kid," Bobby added, throwing in his own two cents. "PTSD is some serious shit, and it can last months or even years if you don't face it."

"Face _what_, Bobby? You think I'm in denial or somethin'? I _know_ what happened! I was there, remember? I haven't _stopped _facin' it!" Dean stood abruptly, unsure why he was suddenly so upset. He wasn't even sure who it was he was angry at.

Sam saw the flicker of confusion in his brother's heated gaze. "It's okay, Dean. Irritability and outbursts of anger are common symptoms. So are avoidance, difficulty concentrating, reoccurring dreams…"

Dean was already shaking his head. "I haven't been havin' dreams, Sammy."

"Actually, you have. You probably don't remember, but I had to wake you up three times last night. That's how I knew we weren't just dealin' with the drugs anymore."

"Oh come on, Sam… With all the shit we deal with on a daily basis as far as our careers are concerned, don't you think I would've gotten PTSD years ago if I was susceptible?"

"No, Dean, I don't. We were raised in the life of monsters and spirits, so that'd be the equivalent of a kid being raised on the battlefield. You're so used to the supernatural, I doubt anything from that world would phase you enough to cause PTSD."

"There ya go. You've said it yourself. I don't have…"

"But we're not talkin' about the supernatural in this case, man. For the first time in your life, you found yourself facin' a situation you couldn't control, and since we were trained to maintain control at all costs, the inability to do so was substantial enough to make this a traumatic event for you."

Dean blinked at him with a blank look on his face. "Dude, I don't have a freakin' clue what you're sayin'."

"I'm sayin' you've got nothin' to be ashamed of. You went through a hell of an ordeal, and until you really face it, you're not gonna be able to get that control back and move past this."

"You don't know what you're talkin' about." Dean shook his head again, this time with a feebly forced smirk. He wanted to show the others this conversation wasn't affecting him, but he knew the effort was wasted.

"I know _exactly_ what I'm talkin' about, Dean. I had the same problem after Jess died, remember? You forced me to face it after we went up against Bloody Mary and the nightmares finally stopped."

"Yeah, well… I've got nothin' to talk about." Suddenly not hungry anymore, Dean turned and headed back towards his bedroom to get away from the makeshift intervention.

"You said 'let him go'," Sam called after him, bringing Dean to an abrupt halt.

"What?"

"When you were reliving it, you said 'let him go' but you weren't talkin' about me, were you, Dean."

"I… I don't remember, Sam. I'm sure I said a lot of shit while I was out of it. I could've been talkin' about anybody."

"Josh is alive, man."

Dean hung his head, grinding his teeth together to maintain composure. "No he isn't, Sam. He died right in front of my eyes. That bastard, Edgar, strangled him but thanks for bringin' _that_ colossal failure up."

"That's what this is about, isn't it? You promised that kid everythin' would be alright, didn't you? And then you thought they killed him while you were helpless to stop it."

"They _did _kill him! Only I thought it was _you_ cause of that freakin' drug. Took me a long time to figure out what I _really _saw while my brain was trippin' out. I broke my wrist to get out of the fuckin' cuffs but I didn't do it in time. The kid was already blue and…"

"You _did_ do it in time, Dean. You saved his life. Listen to me, Bobby found him before we tracked you down and got him safely to a hospital. He's alive, man, and we can go see him if you don't believe me."

Dean blinked, confusion and distrust in his eyes again. "He's really not dead?"

"He ain't dead, son," Bobby confirmed. "Beat to hell, but he ain't dead."

Dean brought a hand up to his mouth as tears flooded his eyes. He hadn't failed after all…

Dean's heart was racing in his chest and his vision blurred momentarily. The room began to tilt a bit and Dean stumbled but Sam was right there to stabilize him and Jo immediately jumped up from her stool and latched onto his other arm.

"It's gonna be alright, Dean," she stated softly. "You did good."

"Maggie… She told me I had to be good or bad things would happen. Thought it was my fault he was dead… Thought I had gotten Sammy killed."

"I'm right here, man. And I'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner. But you're gonna be okay, and so is Josh." Sam readjusted his grip around his brother's waist. "Come on. What do you say we finish these burgers in your room so you can lie back down?"

Dean gave a slight nod, knowing his jelly legs weren't going to be holding him up for much longer. Bobby and Ellen grabbed the plates and followed the others into Dean's bedroom, Ash bringing up the rear with a six pack of beer.

Once they got Dean situated in a sitting position against the headboard with pillows behind his back, Ash passed the beers around.

"A toast! To survivin' another baddie and savin' the innocents. That gets a gold star in my book, Dean. Salud!"

Dean enjoyed the taste of the beer as he let it sit on his tongue a moment before swallowing. In his opinion, there was no greater remedy to any ailment.

As they ate, the uncomfortable tension dissipated and the bond of family replaced it as Ash attempted to burp the ABCs but one obnoxious belch from Bobby put the computer wiz's talent to shame.

The rest of the night passed in cheerful story telling of previous hunts and only when Dean began to drift off did they decide to pack it in for the night. Sam stayed with Dean the whole evening and was pleased to see his brother sleeping peacefully again.

The next morning, Dean woke feeling rested and much better than he had been since this whole ordeal began. He was still sore of course, but that was something he could live with. After all, injuries were par for the course in their line of work.

After a light breakfast, Dean convinced Sam to take him to the hospital to check on Josh. Since most of the visible bruising was already on its way to a soft yellow tint, he didn't look half as bad as he had before when nearly every inch of his body was purple and blue.

Sam helped him slide a shirt on properly and then, much to his brother's disgruntle, made Dean put the sling back on over it.

"Pack up your shit, Sam. It's time we hit the road again."

"You sure you're up to that, Dean? Your hip and back are still pretty damaged… It's gonna get really uncomfortable in those seats after a while."

"I'll be fine, dude. I've gotta get back into the normality of things. Go get your stuff and say your goodbyes. I'll be down in a sec."

"You need help packin'?" Sam checked, eyeing his brother's tethered arm and wrapped wrist.

"Nah, I've got it." Dean was using his free hand to throw items into his bag, one thing at a time. It was slow going, but at least he was managing on his own.

"Alright. I'll see you out front when you're ready then." Sam left quietly, leaving Dean to his musings. Shortly after, a creaking floorboard by the door announced that Dean had a visitor. It took a lot of effort not to whirl around but he was getting better at keeping his cool.

"Your brother's sayin' you boys are headin' out today?" came Bobby's gruff voice and the tension in Dean's body immediately released at the recognition.

"Yeah. I've been away from my baby long enough." Dean continued his slow form of packing, purposefully refusing to look his friend in the eye. He paused when he picked up his torn and bloodied shirt that he had been wearing the night he was taken.

Bobby strolled further into the room, casually tugging the shirt out of Dean's hands and tossing it into the nearby trash bin. "I'll buy you a new one if you're that attached to it."

"I think I'll survive," Dean tossed back before reaching for the next article of clothing lying on his bed.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Hey, Dean? I'm sorry for the way things went down. I wasn't thinkin' when I shot that woman in the gut right in front of you."

"Don't worry about it. She's dead and that's all that matters." Dean was picking up his pace without realizing it, but Bobby reached out again and put a hand on the boy's good shoulder.

"You didn't need to see that, kid. If I had had more time to react, I would've taken care of her more privately. I know what you must've been thinkin' about what with her wearin' a white dress and havin' blond hair like your…"

"I said it's fine, Bobby. Seriously. Just let it go."

"Look at me, son."

Dean reluctantly turned, facing his friend and trying to keep his face neutral.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'd give anythin' to take it back."

Dean nodded, finally making eye contact for Bobby's benefit. "I know. Hazards of the job. Some things are just unavoidable, but I'm grateful she's dead, alright? You did what you had to do. I would've done the same if our situations had been reversed."

"No. You wouldn't have." Bobby knew Dean would have taken the past into consideration if he had been in Bobby's shoes, regardless of how little time he had to think, and he would have found a less scarring way of putting the woman down.

Hell, the kid might not have killed Maggie at all; just found a way to slow her attack until her prey was a safe distance from her.

Dean dropped his eyes again, unable to argue the point because he knew Bobby was right. He wouldn't have handled it the same way. But the past was the past, and there was nothing either of them could do to change it.

"I don't blame you, Bobby. For any of it. If it wasn't for you and Sammy, I'd still be there gettin' daily doses of insanity."

He was trying to be flippant about the topic but Bobby didn't miss the small shiver that ran down Dean's spine at the thought of still being imprisoned by the crazy couple.

"Nah. We'd've gotten you back, one way or the other. It's just too damn quiet without you around."

"Damn right." Dean graced Bobby with a genuine smirk which the man gladly returned.

"Well, come on then. Visitin' hours don't last all night ya know. I wanna check on the kid myself, so I'll meet you out front." Bobby grabbed Dean's duffle and headed back down the stairs before Dean could protest.

Dean gave a small sigh of relief. He wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to the family friend just yet.

TBC

Sorry for the massive delay once again, but thank you all for sticking with me, and reviews are much appreciated!


	29. Back on the Road

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.

Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.

Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

After tender goodbyes and vows to return, the Winchester brothers and Bobby Singer hopped into their vehicles and left the roadhouse crew behind. The peaceful familiarity of the Impala relaxed Dean like nothing else could and it didn't take long for him to fall asleep, warm breath fogging up the passenger window with every exhale.

Sam spared his brother another glance- the tenth one within the past five minutes- drawing his own comfort from Dean's close proximity. He knew he had been driving his big brother crazy over the last few days, keeping a constant eye on him to make sure he didn't disappear again.

But as always, Dean understood Sam's amplified protectiveness and because of that, he never said a word about it. Of course, that didn't stop him from giving his little bro the occasional eye roll or glare when he inadvertently invaded Dean's personal space.

There was no denying that Sam was still worried about his brother. Though the elder Winchester's nightmares seemed to have stopped and his body was on the mend, Dean had endured more than the average person ever should. The bruises and broken bones would heal, but the emotional scars would undoubtedly be with him for the rest of his life.

Sam followed Bobby right into the hospital parking lot, grateful that the man led the way He had too much on his mind to worry about directions.

Once the Impala was parked, Sam killed the engine and turned his full attention to his sleeping brother. Reluctantly, he reached out and- realizing he couldn't shake Dean's injured shoulder- settled for patting the older man's left knee.

"Hey, man. We're here."

Dean's brows drew together as he began to stir. Slowly, he sat back up and stretched, groaning as the kinks in his back and neck popped. Sam watched him intently.

"How're you doin', Dean?"

Glancing over at his brother's concerned face, Dean fought back a grimace as the throbbing pain in his stiff shoulder returned.

"Well, if I don't move, think, or breathe… I'm just dandy."

Sam decided to play his brother's game, just this once.

"So… You're good then?"

Dean pretended to consider the question for a second with pursed lips, then shot Sam one of his award-winning smirks. "Yep. Right as rain, little brother."

Sam snorted. "Glad to hear it." Then he quickly became serious again. "You sure you're ready for this, Dean?"

"I was born ready, Sammy," and with one last forced quirk of his lips, Dean shoved his door open before Sam could say another word.

Shaking his head, Sam mirrored the move to find Bobby waiting for them, leaning up against the side of his truck.

"How's Sleepin' Beauty feelin'?" Bobby asked as Sam reached him.

"He's holdin' up. I think he just wants to get this all over with so he can hit the road and pretend it never happened. Leave the past in the review mirror and never look back."

"Well can you blame him? Hell, I wish _I_ didn't have to remember what went down and you and me got it easy compared to Dean. Just uh… keep an eye on him for a while, alright?"

"Yeah. Course."

"You guys comin' or what?" Dean called, halfway across the parking lot already.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, boy. We're right behind ya." With an encouraging nod of his head to the youngest Winchester, the pair of them trailed in Dean's wake across the parking lot and, after a brief stop at the front desk, all the way to Josh's room on the third floor.

Dean paused just outside the door. "Take this thing off me, Sammy," he instructed, plucking at the sling on his shoulder.

Sam huffed, having had this same argument with Dean practically on an hourly basis. "For the last time… We had a deal, Dean, remember? One week, then we'll reevaluate and…"

"I don't wanna scare the kid, alright? He needs to know I'm okay, so just do it. Please."

As always, Dean was willing to suffer more pain for the benefit of others. Though it went against everything Sam stood for, he did as his brother asked and eased the sling from around his neck.

Dean massaged the aching joint as it slowly acclimated to the change, then straightened, looking every bit the strong and invincible hero Sam had always known him to be. "Thanks, Sammy. I won't be long." With those brief words, Dean strode into the boy's room.

Bobby was about to follow when Sam's arm shot out and brought the man to a halt in the doorway. This was something Dean had to deal with, and he wanted to give his brother some space and privacy. Bobby nodded, quickly grasping Sam's motive, and the two of them watched as Dean made his way across the room towards the boy's bed.

Josh was propped up by pillows, attached to multiple machines, and had bandages covering the majority of his body, but he was breathing just like Sam had said and for Dean, that was all that really mattered.

Josh cracked open the eye that wasn't swollen shut when he heard approaching footsteps and a pained smile spread across his face.

"You got out," he croaked through his bruised windpipe.

"Yeah. I uh… I had a little help." Dean glanced over his shoulder to Sam and Bobby who lurked awkwardly in the doorway. Sam just smiled and gave a small wave in acknowledgment, but Bobby spoke up.

"You probably don't remember me, but it's damn good to see you're still hangin' in there, kid."

Josh frowned in concentration. "Your voice… 's familiar. You brought me here, didn't you?"

Bobby's eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise. "That I did. Gotta say, I'm impressed. You're one hell of a fighter, son."

Josh's face fell. "Hardly. I was too scared to fight back. If it wasn't for him," Josh tilted his head towards Dean, "I'd be dead."

Dean dropped his eyes to the floor, his feelings of guilt and failure bubbling just below the surface.

Bobby tugged on Sam's sleeve. "We'll give you boys a chance to catch up." Together, they disappeared from the doorway, leaving Dean hovering awkwardly a few feet from Josh's bed.

"I owe you my life," Josh stated softly, looking up at his savior.

Dean just shook his head. "It wasn't exactly the heroic rescue we had planned. I almost got you killed."

"I'd rather have died than have stayed there with them. Either way, thank you."

Knowing exactly how the kid felt, Dean had to concede. "You're welcome."

"They… They're gone now, right?" The hint of fear in Josh's eyes was easy to pick up on. "The police stopped by and said…"

"Yeah. They'll never hurt anyone ever again. You can rest easy, okay?"

"I will. For the first time in a long time."

"Good. Well I won't keep you up, but take care of yourself, and take care of your mother once you're back on your feet, got it?"

Josh smirked tiredly, his eyelids getting heavier by the minute. "Yes, sir."

Dean smirked back at the familiar expression, feeling weird being on the receiving end of it when he was so used to saying the exact same thing to his father. With a gentle squeeze of Josh's hand, Dean turned and headed back towards the door.

Just as he stepped out into the hallway to find Sam and Bobby, he was knocked back a step as frail arms enveloped him in a warm hug. Glancing down in surprise, he found a weary but grateful Ms. Bennett squeezing his torso for all she was worth.

He grunted involuntarily at the unexpected contact and she released him immediately, glancing up at Dean with unadulterated gratitude in her eyes. He smiled at her, subconsciously rubbing his good hand over his healing ribs.

"Your partner told me you were in here. Thank you for saving my baby, Detective. He's all I have and I don't know what I would've done if I had lost him."

"Happy to help, Ms. Bennett. He's a good kid. Sorry to intrude on you guys. I just wanted to make sure he was doin' alright."

"You're welcome to visit any time, son. Our door will always be open to you boys."

"That's kind of you. I appreciate the hospitality."

Her broad smile turned sad and slightly pitying as she took in the bodily damage that wasn't hidden by his clothes. "You poor thing… You look like you should be sharing a room with Josh in here."

"Nah. I'm fine, really. Just a few bumps and bruises. Comes with the job."

"Bless you, Sweetheart. It's terrible that jobs like that even have to exist in this world, but as it is, I for one feel much safer knowin' there are people like you out there watching over the rest of us."

Dean shifted from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable and unworthy of the praise. "I didn't have much choice, Ms. Bennett. I was raised in this line of work. It's who I am."

"Just make sure you take care of yourself in between saving wayward children and whatever else you boys do, alright?"

"I will, promise."

Ms. Bennett kissed Dean on the cheek, too afraid to risk hugging him and causing further injuries, then smiled warmly at him for the last time before taking up vigil beside her son's bed once more.

Dean watched her from the doorway for a few seconds, feeling nostalgic about the few times he could remember Mary sitting by his bedside, singing him to sleep or reading him a bedtime story.

"Dean!"

Dean jumped, immediately going on alert at his brother's call. He glanced up in time to see Sam jogging around the corner and making his way down the hallway.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

"Bobby got a copy of the coroner's report. She wasn't pregnant."

Dean stared blankly at Sam before managing to spit out words. "Come again?"

"Edgar's wife. She wasn't pregnant."

"Okay, I'll bite…"

"Apparently she lost the ability to have children after she had Billy. Maggie must have blamed Edgar and that's why he beat the living crap out of his son every chance he got. And if she thought her husband was shooting blanks, that could explain why she was dead set on finding another lover. She was so desperate to have a second child, she actually became delusional."

"So I'm in the clear?"

"You're in the clear."

"Man… You have no idea how much of a relief that is." Dean started making his way down the hallway toward the waiting room, knowing Bobby would be there. Sam matched his stride. "I mean, I know it doesn't really make a difference, her bein' dead and all… but for a while there I felt like the high school jock that knocked up the prom queen."

"Nice, Dean. Knowin' your track record though, sometimes I wonder if there _are_ any little Deans running around in this world…"

"Dude, are you tryin' to give me nightmares?"

"I think you'd make a great dad for what it's worth."

"Oh yeah… Teachin' the kid the difference between usin' a shotgun and shotgunin' a beer. I'd be dad of the year."

"Seriously, man. You should think about settlin' down someday. Gettin' out of this life while you're still kickin'."

"I think one pregnancy scare is enough for the time being thank you very much."

"Fine. But hey, look on the bright side…"

Dean quirked an eyebrow and Sam shot him a smirk. "At least we weren't dealin' with a Rusalka."

Dean glared at his little brother. "You suck, you know that?"

Sam laughed, clapping Dean gently on the back as Bobby met them by the door.

"You idjits ready to get the hell out of Dodge?"

Dean snatched the Impala's keys from his brother's hand, ignoring Sam's protest. "You don't have to ask _me_ twice. Let's roll."

THE END

A/N: Once again, I'm sooo sorry for the long wait but I hope this final chapter was worth it! Thank you all very much for your continued support and reviews, and happy Father's Day to all the daddies out there! Catch you on the next one!


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